For quite a while now the keypad on the code entry part of our office copy machine has refused to acknowledge digits in the right-hand column. Ever resourceful, I punched some digits and found a scarcely-used code that the machine would accept. I have been using this new code for weeks. Yesterday, the keypad limited its acceptance still further. Now the only codes it will take are comprised of the digits 1, 4, and 7. No energy to mess with smuggling such a restricted code. So I took my stuff to copy and went to another building where the keypad is more open-minded. As I reached for the keypad, I realized that I could not remember my code--not my original code, not the usurped code, nada. Well, this is probably one of those things that your fingers remember, I thought. So I put my fingers on the keypad and let them try their best --several times. I gave up when the loud rejection beeps started to draw attention from other offices. Later I went back ot our office and stood in front of our copy machine. I immediately knew my code (well, the usurped one. The original is probably lost for good.). Of course, the machine still wouldn't accept it, but I knew it. I walked away from the machine and did not know it anymore. Sigh. My friend Cathy says that my brain has classified this code as available only on a need-to-know basis. Apparently my brain believes that I should only need to know this when standing in front of this particular copy machine with my hand over the keypad. It's not easy being a zorp.