Mugs of hot water be-teabagged in the kitchen left to go cold

I often leave mugs of hot water be-teabagged in the kitchen to go cold; eggs boiling away on the stove until all the water is gone; 'live' basil plants on my balcony dying a slow, companionless, unwatered death - all while something else otherwise engrossing has caught my promiscuous attention.

I have now, it seems, delivered a perfectly eclatant and v. Twenty-first Century addition to this pantheon of acts of expert pre-senile forgettery: I posted a picture of Don Rumsfeld on the blog [Given Blogger's tempermentality, I find it easiest to post a picture, then write around it afterward], then ran off to, oh, I can't remember now, possibly have a wank or iron a patch on my new shorts or something, and then promptly forgot what I had intended to write about Rum-tum-bum. Worse, I forgot I'd even posted the bleeding picture of the septuagenarian war criminal, and now y'all've had a cryptically unbecommented mugshot of him to gaze on for the last forty-eight hours.

I cannot for the life of me remember what sparkling epistle I had in mind that was to accompany the shot of the Secretary of Defense [sic].

Well, you can return from behind the sofa, I've removed the piccy now, along with the comments it attracted in the comment box, including the one where Lenin tells me I have 'pinchable little cheeks'.