I had tried.
Believe me, I had tried. I had written Post-It notes to myself. I had
mentioned it several times to my wife and begged her to remind me
(isn’t that what wives are for?) I told my 9-year old who has the
memory of a steel trap and can remember the name of the ship that
7-of-9 (my favorite character) from Star Trek Voyager was abandoned in,
a show that he saw, oh perhaps 2-1/2 years ago. I even threatened him
with severe consequences (ok, cancellation of one Star Trek episode) if
he didn’t remind me. I sent an email to myself (which, under the
circumstances, could’ve been futile.)To no avail.
I woke up in a cold sweat this morning. I had forgotten! I
dreaded the trek up the fifteen steps to my office. What would I find
there? Could I even open the door? The room was dark, I having
remembered to close the darkening drapes the night before. Ominous and
still. I opened the door slowly and glanced fearfully inside, prepared
for the worst. What would I be faced with on my desk? A smoking hulk? A
dead lump of plastic and silicon? A sullen monster prepared to bite the
hand that had lovingly keystroked it all these years? All my files
destroyed, my memories erased, my pictures fragmented?
