ignoramus.

Looks like a beautiful day, no? Sure does. A perfect day for a nice, relaxing stroll on the deserted urban playground of Java-eiland. To visit our accountant's office. For which I have an incorrect street number lodged in my memory. Very incorrect.

Just before I left the house I'd "brilliantly" remembered that our accountant had recently relocated out of the center and onto Java-eiland. I mentally high-fived myself, quickly glanced at their website for the new address and "committed it to memory".

Took the tram to Java-eiland, and started my carefree stroll. What a beautiful day. Hmm. Accountant not at "the address". In fact, there are no businesses at that address. Hmm. Actually, heyyyyy...there are no people around at all really.

In fact, not owning a smartphone and not even having my dumb old clamshell cellphone with me (I don't use it much, cause, well...it's not good for much), there is absolutely zero way for a person like myself to figure out the exact address of something that he only knows the name and approximate location of. Phone booths/books don't exist anymore, do they. I walked the length of the island twice, peering intently at every nest of doorbells on every building.

Grrr. Would I reaaaallllly have to travel back to the mainland (OK, ten minutes tops, but), find an internet cafe (ten more minutes, best case), look up the address (etc), and come back? Pbbblleh. I was back in 1995. Sighing deeply, I decided that rather than "giving up" and trying to find a computer, I would instead circle the island repeatedly, flitting from building to building in an increasing panic/frustration, while mentally calling myself many many bad names. I'm afraid that sometimes my lips even moved in a very homeless/psychotic looking way. Good thing there were no people around.

I just didn't believe I was so wrong. I thought the address was 264. I was willing to be as wrong as 642, but nothing over 1000, that's a whole extra digit. I was ready to give up. As an absolute last resort, I rummaged around in the thick sheaf of papers I had with me, which normally would have zero reason to contain our accountant's address.

Except: my wonderful business partner had amazingly updated our standard cover letter with the new address (wtf): 1537. Which, in addition to containing exactly none of the numbers I'd "remembered", was now all the way at the opposite end of the island, the absolute last, final building on the waterfront street, the building about which you'd say to yourself, as I had: well I looked at all the other 1536 addresses, it CAN'T possibly be that one.

I knowwwwwwwwwwwwww, at least I had good weather. And I got a solid two-hour walk out of it, some of it at impressive speeds once the panic set in. Nonetheless, small consolations were necessary once back in the city proper.