If you know me and you're reading this, you might have heard about my dad's recent stroke. This is something I haven't shared with very many people at all. You'll have to bear with me because this is a bit of a long story. But I think it's worth sharing.
I was out at college, living with a friend of mine while I wrapped up my last few days of work before returning home for the summer. She lived very close to two of my coworkers. I had only been to my coworkers' place two or three times before, and I didn't know the apartment number. So when I got locked out of Elizabeth's apartment, I was kinda bummed out. I had gotten off work early, and no one was home. Did I mention my phone was broken so I couldn't even call Elizabeth? I even tried opening the windows to her kitchen and living room. Luckily for me, either her neighbors didn't see me or they condone breaking and entering. (Kidding!)
So I walked over to my coworkers' complex. Like a lot of people, I have a somewhat photographic memory, so I was able to figure out which apartment was my friends'. I kind of looked at the number on the door, shrugged my shoulders, and went, "Hm. I hope this is the right one." I knocked and was relieved when my friend Eli answered. I was able to call Elizabeth with his phone and eventually someone came home and I was able to get in.
Remember that background information. It'll be important in a minute.
