"I swear, you'd lose your head if it wasn't attached," Susan said, laughing as she plated out the stir-fry and rice, grabbing the soy sauce out of the cabinet and setting it down between the two plates on the serving tray that she'd placed them on. "Absolutely hopeless. Must be going senile."
She was teasing, of course. He was about as far from senile as anyone could possibly be, and he'd always forgotten something. Her mother had always called it the absentminded genius syndrome, that his mind was too busy thinking on the larger problems at hand that he just didn't have time for the simple things in life.
It had actually been quite common on Gallifrey. But Grandfather had always had it like no one else.
"No whining," Susan said. "If you read it normally, you're not going to take any of it in. You'll just skim and pretend like you read it all. And if it takes a year, it takes a year. If you want your TARDIS fixed, you're doing it."