I don't know which is worse - forgetting to be someplace (like I did yesterday) or . . .
When my mom and dad were living in Newberg, Oregon, there were some people they had known from Alaska (Mr. and Mrs. S), who lived in another Oregon town, about 40 miles away. Mom and Dad had been invited to this couple's 50th wedding anniversary celebration. They hadn't been particularly close friends with this couple, but they felt they should make the effort to attend, anyway. The party was on a Sunday afternoon, so Mom and Dad had to really rush to get there after church. As I recall, they even left before the service was completely over to make it on time.
When they got to the couple's home, they found they were, apparently, early, because their car was the first one parked on the street. Feeling good to have gotten there in such good time, they walked to the front door with their wrapped gift and rang the doorbell. No answer. They rang again, and finally someone opened the door just a crack. It was their friend, Mrs. S, in her robe and her curlers! This just didn't feel right!
"Oh, are we early for your party?" Mom asked a little sheepishly. Mrs. S managed a smile, and said, "Yes. It's next Sunday."
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