Why I’d make a terrible astronaut

Well, in news nobody cares about: NASA has declared that it will not be going back to the moon. This is notable for two reasons. One, WHO SAYS WE EVER WENT THE FIRST TIME?! [cue frizzly haired dude from Ancient Aliens] And two, now NASA will never get to redo Armstrong’s line that he royally botched. He should have — as he was no doubt reminded by a billion grammar Nazis — said “that’s one small step for *A* man” instead of “that’s one small step for man”. But I’ll give him a pass because I would have screwed it up much worse: “That’s one step for small man… I mean, that’s a small man for one step… I mean for one man.” [trips on rock, space suit tears open, dies]

Now NASA will concentrate on sending a man to an asteroid, but the mission will be abandoned when everyone involved gets sick of hearing the Bruce Willis references. They’re also planning on a manned expedition to Mars. I’d volunteer for that but I have one major flaw that would keep me from being an astronaut: Every time I go on a trip to any far off destination, I always accidentally leave something important there. When I say ‘every time’ I mean EVERY time. It always follows the same pattern, too. I remember at precisely the moment when it’s too late to go back. This means that I either realize my mistake as the plane is taking off, or once we’ve traveled precisely 60 miles in the car. At which point I tell my wife that I think I left [XYZ important item] in the hotel, we argue about whether to double back for the next 12 miles, ultimately we decide against it in favor of having it mailed, and I earn myself a lecture about responsibility. By the way, I’ll still forget something important even if my wife runs down an inventory with me 40 seconds before getting in the car:

Wife: Babe, do you have the envelope with the important documents?

Me: Yeah, I have them right here.

Wife: Seriously, we can’t forget it. Do you have it?

Me: Yes, I’ve literally got it in my hand as we are walking out the door. How could I forget it now? I’m not an idiot.

[96 seconds later, in car]

Wife: Where’s the envelope? I’ll put it in the glove compartment.

Me: CRAP.

Point is, I know I’d end up leaving the oxygen tanks or our entire box of freeze dried food rations on Mars. Then we’d all die on the way back to earth and, generally, people never let you hear the end of it when you make a mistake that ensures their slow and painful obliteration.

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