Okay, I've worked up the nerve to tell you how I came to remember my mother's story, that I recounted yesterday. I've just returned from a business trip. On the first night I stayed in Maryland in a nice hotel, in room 223. On the remaining nights I was at a nice place in Virginia. When I arrived, the elevator was not working, so I begged for, and got, a first floor room: 120. Wednesday night, neither of my electronic keys worked. I pushed each one into the slot of room 220 several times, but thank goodness, nothing happened. Okay, I told myself, I'll just have to go back down the elevator, lugging my heavy laptop, and tell them I need new electronic keys. Wait a minute! I don't need the elevator to get to my room! I'm in room 120. And all those memories came flooding back ...
Ohhhhh mom, I'm glad I don't have to tell you: Mr. Boss wasn't the only one.
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