Yes, I am reminded of a time when I was 9 or 10 years old living in El Salvador, in a house where our maid's name was Betty, as also my mother's name is Betty. One day our maid Betty was reading to us a letter from a lover and somehow the way she was reading it made me think for a moment that it was directed to me, but no, at the end of the letter she explained that the letter was for her, from some guy who lived down the street. Silly me, I almost thought the letter was for me, but no, that would be ridiculous.
Betty from Santa Ana was our maid during the first term, but when we returned for the second term my mother refused to rehire her.
