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The Zwickerettes and I drove down to Louisville to spend the first few days of Sukkot with the in-laws. Right before getting on the Southfield Freeway, we were sitting at the CVS drive-through when I commented to Mrs. Zwicker that I felt that I felt that I forgot to pack something in the car, which was my responsibility. Sure enough, six hours later, just fifteen minutes from the in-laws' house, I realized that I forgot to pack all our hanging stuff, including my suits, shirts and ties and Mrs. Zwicker's dresses. I also forgot to pack Mrs. Zwicker's hats.
When I brought my oversight to her attention, Lesley's first reaction was to laugh her butt off. At first, I didn't understand why she wasn't angry. I quickly realized the fallacy of my rookie-like thinking. My boneheadedness meant Mrs. Zwicker's guilt-free shopping for new clothes. We made a detour to the mail, where, hundreds of dollars later, we had new duds for the holiday.
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