My parents were out of town this weekend, which meant I had to get their mail and newspaper for them. Normally, this isn’t a big deal, but Minnesota plunged back into the deep freeze and hit wind chills of -40. Saturday night was the worst of it, or so they said. So of course, that’s the night it happened.
It would be going to bed and wondering, “Gee, did I remember to close my parents’ garage door after I dropped the mail off at their house?”
Of course I did, I told myself. If I hadn’t, the neighbor across the street (who was asked to keep an eye out on the house) would have called. But what if my dad didn’t give him my phone number?
There were other arguments back and forth and I was 95% certain that I’d shut the door. It was that 5% of uncertainty, though, that nagged at me. We’d had cars in our neighborhood broken into a year or so ago and my dad’s snowblower is in the garage–right there in front.
Finally, at about 11:45, I couldn’t take it anymore. I got in my car and drove over to make absolutely 100% certain that the door was down. It was. I could have stayed in my nice warm house and saved myself a midnight run in frigid temps.
The cold air, though, woke me up and I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep any time soon, so I booted up the computer and worked for a while. I fixed all the continuity errors I made on Sunday after I’d had some sleep. 
