Don’t Tell the DMV

It’s so sad to be me sometimes. I truly have no (none, nada, nihil, zip, zilch, zero) sense of direction. It’s been four months since Andy has been rowing. I’ve moved my shopping, work and pretty much everything to that part of town.  I thought I had a handle on it.  Or not.

Met my friend, Kate, today while Andy practiced. I love “Kate Days.” Even if we don’t talk about happy stuff, it’s nice to know someone well enough to be able to just pick up and start talking. And we talked and talked and talked and suddenly it was time to get Andy.  Oops.  

I figured today was the day to try the way Mike told me to get back to the boathouse – he swore it was shorter than my way.  Yeah, somewhere, somehow, I turned wrong coming out of the giant shopping center where I met Kate.  I drove and drove and soon there were no cars, just cows and massively massive houses (imagine living in a small Target) and no signs and no place to stop and ask for help.  

I’m not sure how I got back to where I started, but I was late, late, late. And, there’s my baby, helpless and waiting and no phone.  (We’re terrible parents)  I finally found Andy about 30 minutes late.  He looked like a tall, sad, skinny orphan standing there.  And, because he’s Andy, he is never going to let me forget it. EVER.  

(Yes, I have GPS on my phone.  No, I don’t know how to make it work quickly and certainly not while I’m driving and the cows were getting scary.)

And, still, the DMV gives me a driver’s license every time I show up.  Going back tomorrow – wish us luck.

One thought on “Don’t Tell the DMV

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