My friend Hope wishes that someone had told her as a child that she could be a travel writer.
Since my time machine is ready to test, I figured I could slip that into my list.
“I’ll take care of that right before I kill Hitler,” I said, and I flipped the switch.
Several time hops later, I found myself in Austria in 1900.
“Sie können ein Reiseschriftsteller sein,” I said to a young Adolf Hitler.
“Vas is das?” he said.
Uh oh. I got my list mixed up.
I’d better go back and stop myself from killing Hope.