Today I discovered I am disabled and I have never been quite so relieved in all my life. I have become diagnosed as directionally-challenged.
That's socially correct for "can't find her way out of a cardboard box".
My husband took pity on me and purchased my last car equipped with a navigation system. "Now you won't have any trouble," he assured me.
He even programmed the voice to a nice, smooth, silky, male, Latin tone and "Roberto" and I became acquainted on my next trip out of town.
Never trust a man who refuses to stop for directions. I arrived at my 2:00 p.m meeting at 3:00 p.m.
"I'm breaking up with Roberto," I told my husband when I got home.
"You weren't listening to his directions," he accused me.
"Oh, I was listening alright," I insisted. "The problem is that when he speaks, the last thing I think of is direction."
And because the love of my life is just so wonderful, he reprogrammed the voice to a dull, female monotone.
With "Lola's" help, I am healing little by little. We've become fast friends and she pretty well gets me where I need to go. She's even sent me solo a time or two, and since I'm such an expert at following directions, we're even discussing the possibility of giving Roberto another chance.
Until next week,