I stopped at Atria to deliver my mother's pills and her laundry. I really should have done that yesterday, but put it off another day.
When I got there, her newspaper was still outside and when I knocked there was no answer. I always fear the worst, and let myself in quietly.
I could see that she was still in bed, at 1 p.m., and tiptoed into her bedroom to see if she was alive. I was happy to hear that she was snoring loudly, so I tiptoed out again, wrote her a note and left, hoping she'd figure out that the bag I left in her bedroom was filled with clean underwear.