Hither, thither and yon. Now I’m 62. Three birthday meals are plenty! Earrings, a bracelet, a length of shibori ribbon, and a felted scarf. One memoir. One phone call. A check. Tulips and chocolate. I’d say it was a banner year.

Oh, and I’m to order a dress and pair of shoes, courtesy of my sister. She insists. The shoes are pointy and printed with flowers. I love them. The dress is faux patchwork, but not in a cheesy way.

In other news, life pounds along. Hospital bed delivered today. New aide seems to be working out. Need for weekend help noted. Bank account blocked and funds transferred to new account. (“YOU GAVE THEM YOUR ROUTING NUMBER, TOO?!”) Online predators promising computer help. She didn’t know. We’re all of us, I think, at one time or another so desperate for tech help, we might do something equally stupid.

The misstep had me at Salem Five Bank this morning, power of attorney in hand. I was desperate to pee. Angel the clerk suggested that I go to CVS — contacting legal would take a minute anyhow. But lo! CVS toilet out of order. I think I yelped. Nearly dropped the popsicles and antihistamines gathered for my sister. We’re talking two cups of coffee. Almost an hour in the car. A bad stretch of bumpy road approaching Essex Street. On my way back to Salem Five, I looked around for possible places to relieve myself. A dirty but tall snow bank. A dumpster screened by a fence. I’ve peed in less dignified places.

Back at the counter, I asked Angel again. “Please? So I don’t have to pee behind the snow bank?” I used the word ‘mercy,’ but didn’t think to tie it to her name.

Angel was having none of it. She said, “The problem is we’d have to walk past the vault.”

Does comedy improve bladder function? Or heighten patience? Because I was suddenly fine.

Picture it: me, in a dusty black down coat that drapes to my ankles. A head of grey hair. Newly 62. So short my eyes are nearly level with Angel’s name plaque.

There must’ve been felonious intent written all over me, right?

All at once, I could imagine it. The most devious of heist planners sending someone precisely like me to plead for use of the toilet, playing the old lady card, just to gain access to the vault!