What would it be like to remember every single event in your life, from the kind of cake you had at your third birthday party to how much you paid for a Grand Funk Railroad album?

Life's highs and lows never forgotten because of Hyperthymestic Syndrome. Which, I'm not sure, but I believe is from the Greek words "hyper" meaning "big pain" and "thymesis" meaning "in the butt."

Only a few people in the world have HS, but one has just written a book and another is the subject of a documentary.

I think it would be hard to be married to someone with HS, don't you?

She: "Hon, you didn't take the trash out."

He: "Yes, I did. Which reminds me. The first time I ever took the trash out was June 16, 1969. It was a sunny day with a 30 percent chance of rain. I had an egg salad sandwich and Hawaiian Punch for lunch and rode bikes with Jimmy Thigenbottom from down the street until approximately 5:10 p.m."

She: "Fascinating. What do you think we should have for dinner tonight?"

He: "Hmmmm. How about you make the dinner you made on November 3, 2002."

She: "A little help?"

He: "Duhhhh. Marinated lamb shanks and buttered couscous, you silly! I swear, sometimes I think you'd forget your head if it wasn't attached to your shoulders."

She: "I was just thinking how funny you'd look with your head NOT attached to your shoulders. Hahahahahaha!!!"

He: "What?"

She: "Nothing."

Having HS would, well, blow. You'd remember the tragic stuff in life: where you were when the Challenger blew up or when you learned that Denise Richards was going to star in a reality TV show on E!

You'd remember every bad decision (the vintage Audi), every disappointment (the last "Seinfeld" episode), every time you gave your heart to another only to realize they didn't even know you were alive (I'm talking to you, Mr. Jimmy Smits), every low moment in parenting (Benadryl before Target trip equals peaceful shopping experience).

I had some more examples but I forgot 'em.

Lucky me.