My Grandma's Phone Number

I had a small scare tonight. Not a bad scare, not even a scare by many people's standards. I was going through some papers in my never ending effort to straighten up my condo, and I found a copy of my grandma's phone list that she had kept by her phone. Of course, my name was on there. I enjoyed reading down through the list, and then I had a small start. I couldn't remember my grandma's number. Of course her number was not on that list. I had a feeling of anxiety. For some reason, I needed to remember that number. I can't call her anymore, but I need to know it. But how would I remember it? I could remember the area code and prefix of course, but it was the last four digits that slipped my mind. I would feel terrible if I couldn't remember it. For some reason, small details like that are important to me. Then I felt a sense of relief as I saw an old phone bill in the same pile of papers. Of course on that bill was one of the last phone calls I had made to my grandma in 2003, and there was her number. What a relief.