My mother volunteered me to help one of her friends move. Okay. So I go and pick this guy up, along with a truckload of stuff, and then he directs me to his new place. As we turn from the highway, I comment on how the only time I've ever been down this road was, coincidentally, another time I was helping someone move, years previous.
As we creep down the road, I begin remembering more and more about the other time I'd been there, helping with a move-out rather than an -in, also for a parental acquaintance, also during the first spurt of fall.
We creep down the road, no, not this one, keep going.
When he at last said turn, and pointed me up a sloping drive way that I found familiar, I saw what was coming, and couldn't help but laugh, to the man's nonplus.
Sure enough, he stopped me at the very house I had years ago helped someone move from -- the very unit, in fact.
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