Cloudy With A Chance of Forgetfulness

"Honey," I call upstairs.
"I'm upstairs," he calls downstairs.
"I have something to tell you," I call upstairs.
"Give me a sec," he calls downstairs.
"Okay," I call upstairs.

Three minutes later:
"What did you want to tell me?" he asks.
"Oh... um... oh God... uh... @#$%! I forgot," I say.

One hour later:
"I remember what I wanted to tell you," I say.
"What?" he asks.
"I was going to tell you that the little tiny window thingy on my watch with the date is still a day ahead," I say.
"You want me to fix it?" he asks.
"No, I already did," I say.
"So it's okay now?" he asks.
"Yep. I just thought you'd want to know," I say.
"Thanks for telling me," he says.
"You're welcome," I say.