On road trips, I am usually the navigator. I am the one who talks to Siri, plugs in the 'directions to here' coordinates and makes sure that we are on the right course. My husband is the driver. He sets the cruise control, selects the playlist and he gets us to our destination safe and sound.
Sometimes being the navigator is boring. My brain wanders to all the other things I could be doing. I am a big multitasker---I like to listen to audio books while I am getting ready in the morning and driving to school---I like to be efficient. But on a long car trip, there are only so many things I can do while listening to music, navigating, and playing the hawk game. Those 'things' aren't enough to make me feel like I have accomplished something.
My desire to feel like I have accomplished something beyond the parameters of the excursion, sometimes lead me on a trajectory to do the most mundane and tedious tasks at the most inappropriate times.
Last Memorial Day weekend, we were helping a friend move. Our truck was loaded down and we were headed to their new town house in Fayetteville. I had the coordinates punched in and we were making good time.
At some point we hit some road construction---and had to take a detour---and since we had never been to this particular location, it was necessary that I find us an alternate route. However, I was too distracted to realize that my navigation skills were needed at the moment.
"Hello, yes, I would like to make a reservation for brunch next weekend," I said on the phone.
My husband, the driver, making wrong turns, cursing, furious that we were taking a long unnecessary trek in the wrong direction because the receptionist had put me on hold and I was so busy making BRUNCH RESERVATIONS FOR NEXT WEEKEND that I could not be bothered to get our overstuffed truck to the right place.
"She put me on hold....hang on...." I told him as we started down a hilly, 2-lane road, green cow pastures on either side of us--obviously not headed towards downtown.
"Can't you call her back later?! Why is this so urgent that you must take care of it right now---at this exact moment, when we are lost. You've had 2 hours to call and make these reservations, yet you chose the very last 5 minutes of the trip, when we are on a detour, to take care of this? Why on earth would you think that is a good idea?"
"Hang on, she's back---Hi, yes 3 for next Sunday, the Mother's Day brunch" I requested, as we made a U-turn on a gravel driveway.
"I don't even know if we are going the right way," my husband spat as he whipped the truck into reverse.
Finally, my call ended and I pulled up the map. I got us back on the right path, but my husband still hasn't let me forget that day.
Now, whenever we are going somewhere new, and I am navigating us towards the destination, as soon as we are almost there, figuring out those last few turns he always turns and asks, "are you sure you don't need to make brunch reservations right now?"
This is my 'slice of life' blog.
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