I am in Ohio, visiting my boyfriend, Kenn, for the holidays. Well, my mom says I’m too old to call him my boyfriend. But I really can’t come up with a better description of our relationship. ‘Friend’ sounds too casual, ‘special friend’ sounds like he may have learning difficulties. ‘Companion’ seems too caretaker-ish, and ‘partner’ sounds either too business-like or like we are living together, which will not happen until the day we get married, assuming that happens at some point. So, since he introduces me as his girlfriend, I will continue to refer to him as my boyfriend. Sorry Momma. But I digress….

Kenn is in the process of looking for a new car. He currently has two vehicles, and plans to trade or sell both of them and live with one, new car. A couple of days ago, one of his cars was at his office so I drove him to work. I drove his other car so I could run it through a car wash before he got it appraised for trade in. This was the point in time when my perfect storm began.

I rely heavily on the GPS in my car while here. The bad part of doing so is having the sense that someone else is driving. I have to make a concerted effort to pay attention to where I am going. More often than not, I just merrily follow directions, oblivious to my surroundings. As I dropped him off, he asked me to run by the post office. “Get on Route 4, turn left on 63, then right on Main Street. Go past the Family Dollar store and the post office is up on the right.” Uh, sure, right. So the wet car with no GPS and I headed out to locate the post office. In the meantime, I remembered Kenn saying, as he got out of the car, that he left his cell phone at home. I also realized that my Lasix was kicking in. I take Lasix for my heart issues, and, if you aren’t aware of this fact, it is the grand poopah of diuretics. So my first order of business was to find a bathroom. After running into a Kroger, I continued my hunt for a post office. I wondered around a bit and finally located it. I felt so smart! Now finding my way home was another matter. I took off in my perceived correct direction. After driving through an industrial area, I knew I was lost. After driving a bit, a pit stop was in order yet again so I spotted a gas station and ran to the restroom. I decided to ask the person at the cash register to point in the direction of Liberty Township, Kenn’s hometown. You see, I was one or two towns over at this point. Instead of pointing as I requested, he decided to give me directions. Now, I am absolutely terrible with accents. My sons hate watching movies with me when foreign accents are involved because I am constantly saying “what did he say?” and they miss half of the movie. Even British accents throw me at times. (Sorry Lynne!) And I really can’t tell the difference between Aussie and Kiwi accents, either. (Sorry Steve!) Well, this guy was very kind….and of Indian or Pakistani descent. As he spoke, all I heard was “wrgregwwrgkjelfjverlvjb”. I asked him to repeat once, but when I realized I was hopeless, I just smiled, nodded, and thanked him profusely. I did make out the word ‘ox’ something or other and the number four. I wondered around until I saw Oxford Street, turned there, saw Route 4, turned, and there, right in front of me……only about an hour after starting my journey……was Kenn’s office. It is exactly 12 minutes from his home to his office, and I drove around for an hour only to return right back to where I started. I no longer felt so smart.

At that point, I was able to find my way home just in time for another bathroom run. When Kenn got home, I told him about my dilemma. He felt bad that he hadn’t given me further directions to get home. I told him that I wished I could have called him. His response? “Belinda, you know you have a GPS on your phone, too, right?” Duh.