I don’t have a good sense of direction. Which is like saying that the Titanic had a little run-in with an iceberg.
The last time I picked up my mom at the train station, I went south instead of north on my way home. Apparently you’re not supposed to do that. I found my way back to my starting point and called DJ at work.
“Okay,” he said, staring at Google Maps on his computer. “I see the gas station where you are…”
“Hi! I’m waving at you!”
He paused. “Very funny. I really was looking for you. Anyway.” He sent me in a northward direction, and we got home.
This time when I picked up Mom, I went north. And did it so effortlessly, almost instinctively, that I was certain I got it wrong. So I turned around and went south.
Yes, yes, we got home okay. We always do. Which is more than the crew of the Titanic could say. So there.