I had a major senior moment at work the other week. Actually, it was more than a moment really; it lasted several days.
Whenever I went to make a cup of tea in the kitchen, or popped to the loo, or headed off to a meeting somewhere, I kept bumping into this young woman in the corridor outside my office. Metaphorically bumping into, that is—it wasn't that kind of senior moment. It was uncanny: almost every time I had cause to walk down the corridor, there she was coming the other way. I had no idea who she was; a new face from another department, no doubt.
After a while, our bumping into each other became something of a private joke: I would nod at her, or share a conspiratorial smirk we walked past each other.
Until a week last Thursday, that is, when I finally realised that she was two totally different women. I know this for a fact, because I saw them talking with each other. Apart from their blonde hair, petite builds, and stylish suits, they looked absolutely nothing like each other. Not even remotely.
I'll bet they were talking about the nutter down the corridor who keeps smirking at them.
See also: Senior moment