SUNDAY EDITIONSNO. 09SEND IT TO HER

Photograph it and send it.

The paper from the backpack, the school calendar, the invitation in your email. Sunday reads it and does something with it.

A page comes out of the backpack on a Tuesday. A field trip in three weeks, a form to sign, a request for chaperones, and eleven dollars due before the end of the month.

Take a photograph of it and text it to Sunday. She reads the page, puts the field trip on the calendar with its time, and puts the form and the eleven dollars on your list with the date they are due. The paper has done its job by the time it reaches the counter.

Email works the same way. Forward the invitation, the note from the office, the group thread where somebody buried the one detail that mattered. She reads it and takes out the parts that are yours to know.

She also keeps the page itself. Two weeks later you can ask her what time the field trip leaves, or whether the form was the one that needed a signature, and she will tell you, because she still has what you sent her.

The photograph takes two seconds. Typing that page into a calendar and a list and a payment note, in four places, on a Tuesday evening, takes ten minutes you will not get back.

You take the picture in the kitchen, with one hand, while the person who brought the paper home is still talking to you about something else entirely.

Then the page goes in the recycling, and the field trip is on the calendar, and none of it is in your head.