In Which I am a Hero

Our printer died spectacularly last night, eight pages before the end of Becca's 50-page summer reading portfolio.  And by spectacularly I mean: we now understand why you don't turn a printer upside down to find out where that last piece of gummed up paper has got stuck, because you get puddles of black gooey ink all over your clothes, your hands, the floor...  So while Danny was wrestling with this bit of technology run amok, who do you think it was who drove downtown to a 24-hour Kinko's and printed the paper out, so the kid could finish her AP Stats homework?

Even if we had this technology when I was young, my mother would not have done the same.  Of course, she had glaucoma and was night blind, so driving was out of the question.  Still...