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.
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