Ex.1. PROOFREAD the story for the forms of underlined infinitive phrases

I MEANT TO CALL

The clock radio boomed on at 8:30 and jarred Carolyn Reynolds awake. It was a Saturday morning, and as Carolyn rolled over she caught a glimpse of heavy thunderheads in the sky outside the window. It looked like it was going to have been another one of rainy, sleepy days. Even though it was Saturday, she needed to go to work later, and she’d arranged for the office to be open by one of the security people so that she could use the computer to work on that awful annual report. The report was supposed to have completed and left on her supervisor’s desk three days ago. Carolyn sighed and snuggled back down under the covers. To sleep for just a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, would it?

When Carolyn woke up the second time, the clock read 10:35. She’d better to get rolling if she was going to get anything done today. She went into the kitchen and put a cup of coffee in the microwave heat up. She glanced at two pieces of mail that had been lying on the counter for more than a week now. One was a postcard from her veterinarian reminding her that Omar, her pet cat, was to have been given his distemper and feline leukemia shot a month ago. The other piece of mail was a letter from her mother, who lived in a nursing home in a town thirty miles away. The letter was actually three weeks old; Carolyn hadn’t spoken to her mother recently and she was sure her mother expected her to have written or called by now, though of course she hadn’t said anything about it. She really should to give her mother a call, though – perhaps when she came back from work tonight. She sat down at the dining room table and glanced at the newspaper while she drank her coffee and ate a doughnut. Omar jumped up into her lap, but she pushed him off, annoyed. “Not now, Omar – I don’t feel like holding you right now.”

When Carolyn arrived home at 6:30 that evening, she was drained and irritable. The message light on her answering machine was blinking, but Carolyn thought she’d wait until later to be listening to the message. Feeling too tired to cook a regular meal, Carolyn called and ordered some Chinese food to deliver.

The next day was Sunday. Carolyn got up at nine feeling refreshed and spent a leisurely hour reading the Sunday paper. She’d arranged to meet her friend Hal for brunch at a new restaurant that was rumored to have had excellent omelets.

* * *

The brunch was delicious, and Carolyn enjoyed Hal’s company. She felt good, so she decided to stop at a nearby shopping mall to get her mother a birthday present. Her mother’s seventy-fifth birthday had actually occurred a month previously, but they had agreed that it wasn’t important to be celebrating the precise day; the important thing was the thought, no matter when the gift came. Carolyn had said, “Mom, I want to get you the right thing, something really nice. I don’t want to have been rushed into it.” Her mother had agreed, saying, “Of course, honey, I’m long past the age when I expect to be fussed over for a silly birthday or be given a birthday party.”

When Carolyn walked into her apartment, she noticed that the red phone message light was still blinking, and she realized that she had forgotten to have listened to her messages the evening before. She pressed the play button and heard the first message:

Hi, honey, this is Mom. I just wanted tell you that I’m going into the hospital for a couple of days. I just haven’t been feeling well these last two weeks or so, and the doctor thinks I need to have had some tests. Maybe you could give me a call later if you have time. My number at the hospital is 688-9294.

The machine beeped, and then the second message came on.

Carolyn, this is Doctor Stephenson at Parkland General Hospital. Please give me a call right away at 688-9299.

Carolyn’s heart was racing now, and she quickly dialed the number. The phone was answered by an aid, and it took several minutes for Dr. Stephenson to have tracked down. Finally she heard his voice on the other end: “This is Mark Stephenson.”

“Hello, Dr. Stephenson. This is Carolyn Reynolds. I got a message on my machine this morning from my mother. She said she was going to the hospital. Then I got your message. Is everything OK? She’s all right, isn’t she?”

“Ms. Reynolds, I’m sorry to have to be the one to be told you this, but I have some very sad news. Your mother passed away this morning at 11:15.”