Realize I need a Phillips head screwdriver to adjust a cabinet hinge.
Walk down to basement to get tool.
Arrive in basement knowing I came down here for something. What the hell was it?
Walking from one room to the next causes the brain to adjust to the new surrounding overwriting the reason for entering the new room. Has nothing to do with age.
My dream house is ONE ROOM except for bathroom. :)
Old joke:
These days I find myself wondering about the hereafter. I go into a room and then say, “I wonder what I came in here after?”