Absent minded

Ég er ánægður. I am happy. I am calm, relaxed, and arguably a little absent minded. "What?" I hear you ask, "Surely Virge can't be absent minded. He's a ---Manager---. He can't be absent minded."
I agree. I'm not absent minded. Most thoughts eventually get around to wandering through my head. It's just that they wander through via circuitous routes. Some of them must be stopping for a quiet daydream in the park on the way. Maybe they took time to stop and smell the liquorice bullets.
I had been at work for about an hour this morning before a particularly tardy thought meandered through. When it slouched up to the control deck it announced: "Captain, there is a gap in the ship's log. We seem to have no record of today's lunch packing drill." I remember making my lunch, a sandwich - shaved salami on home-made bread - a vegetable and sliced peppers soup, a golden delicious apple and a just-perfectly-ripe banananana. I remember going into the study to check email and get my bag. I even remember cleaning my teeth before grabbing my bag, waving goodbye and marching out the door.
There is no court in this country that would declare me absent minded. See how clear my memories are. See how reliably my failure to pack my lunch was noted and brought to my attention, a mere hour and a quarter after the slip.
In fact, now that I think about it, it wasn't a slip at all. It was me being very thoughtful. Yes. That's right. I was being thoughtful and making a cut lunch for my wife to take to work. I can almost remember the warm inner glow that suffused my intestines as I performed this sacrificial act of kindness - knowing that I would be denying myself the chance to taste the golden banana of scrumptiousness. Pah! How could anyone be so cynical as to describe my heroic devotion as absent-mindedness?