Lost

Note to self: Don’t go exploring until your husband purchases a portable GPS. Too bad I didn’t think of that before I took my car and went off in search of this cool-sounding store I’d read about in a magazine. I planned ahead and printed out directions to get there; unfortunately, I didn’t print out directions to get home. Silly me, I assumed I could just take them backwards. Forty-five minutes later I was still circling the same three towns trying to find the highway. Now, this is not a new experience for me. I have no sense of direction. It’s not that I’m stupid—I graduated from a very good college in the mid-west. And I’m perfectly able to follow directions, which is why I found the store in the 45 minutes that my directions allowed me. No, I’ve discovered that my internal compass point perpetually north. I could be staring at the sun setting (because for darn sure I’m not getting out of bed early enough to see it rise) right in front of me, knowing full well that the sun sets in the west, and still feel as if I were facing north. I constantly take wrong turns and have to backtrack in order to find something—welcome to my world. But I haven’t been this lost since high school, only back then I would have enjoyed it way more. I would have stopped to ask directions, except, you know that line (usually a couple of blocks, sometimes less) between “really cute town” and “sketchy”? Well, that’s where I was, and the thought of stopping didn’t really make me feel good. So I continued driving, searching for highway signs, landmarks, anything that would give me an idea of where I was. I mean seriously, the George Washington Bridge is huge; how difficult can it be to spot? Apparently, very. Eventually I found signs to the highway, took it in the right direction (yay me!) and made it home. Note to husband: Please buy one soon!

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