I am a directional moron. Truly. The only way I could EVER pin the tail on any donkey was if I cheated. And pinatas? Forget about it. I get lost just THINKING about getting lost, so if you arm me with a bat and turn me around once, twice, or (egads!) three times with a blindfold over my eyes…RUN!
When I want to point in a direction, I usually point the wrong way. Wrong to you, but makes sense to me. For example: Say we are standing in a room with a door to the right of me and a window looking out at the road to the left. I am telling you about a place I went to down the street and when I say this, I point to the right…even though the road you would take is to my left. Why? Why do I point right? Because you have to walk out the door first.
Maybe I am not communicating my inability to grasp direction well. But you would feel the frustration that Courtland has felt since the day we met if you were on the receiving end of all my frantic “I’m lost” phone calls. See, I know Court works in front of a computer. Therefore, online maps are at his fingertips. Which of course means he is waiting with bated breath for my call…NOT. Yet I called. And I called. And I called. And he can tell you how much sense I make when I am lost (and pre-surgery deliriously sleepy) and frantic and late for something (I’m guessing he’d put it at -8). So one day, to save himself, and probably our relationship, Courtland bought me FIL.
FIL is a Garmin Nuvi 660. Wide screen with text to speech navigator that I have set to speak to me in a male British accent. Court has not heard from me in a lost panic since. Truly, FIL is a miracle worker. I’ve shown FIL to other people who instantly covet him. I highly recommend FIL to anyone with a similar directional disorder. I can drive into San Jose and San Francisco and emerge unscathed. And when I am running late, FIL tells me what time I can expect to arrive and lets me call people through him via bluetooth and speak through him hands free. I love FIL. I love FIL so much I thought I’d write an entry about him. And in case you are wondering…
FIL stands for:
F*CK, I’m Lost