He stood in the middle of the kitchen, wondering why he was there. What had he gone in there for? He glanced around at the various appliances and utensils, hoping one of them would jog his memory. Nothing provided a clue.
He kind of zoned out and began wondering just where his memory actually resided in his body. Was it in his head or mind? Was his mind in his head or was it somewhere else? Did his mind have anything to do with his memory? How could he know if he didn’t remember?
After a bit he finally emerged from his reverie and looked hopefully around the kitchen once again. Nothing!
Shaking his head he left and walked back to the den. He eased down into the rocking chair and as soon as his rear end was seated he remembered what he had gone to the kitchen for.
He also realized the answer to where his memory lived. In his butt.