Sometimes I just shouldn’t be let out by myself. Yet another epic fail when it comes to navigating. Do you know the phrase: No freakin’ idea. Well that’s me.
This evening I was determined to go to a Tango class. I had discovered one not nearby but inner city as all good things appear to be these days. Nevertheless I had decided I needed to embrace my inner Dancing Queen again and do some tango. I might be in a little mini rut so needed to drag myself out of it. Dancing seemed just the thing.
I was ready. I was prepared.
- I was quite excited and had told people at work I was going - hm, that’s going to be particularly embarrassing now.
- I had gone to my Spin class this morning (and almost threw up) to make up for missing it tonight.
- I had checked the map for the route - almost a straight line. Deceptively easy really.
- I had applied new make-up. (There wasn’t much I could do about my hair but I am seeing the hair dresser on Friday. I just hoped the grey sort of blended with the blonde.)
- I had talked myself out of wearing jeans (again) and put on a skirt.
- I had rummaged through the cupboard and located my dance shoes.
- I had got in the car early enough for any normal person to get to Richmond in plenty of time.
- I had driven almost all there way there when disaster struck.
I realized I was on a road parallel to the one I wanted to be on. That’s OK I thought, as I quickly checked the map while waiting at the lights, I’ll just turn and get on the right road. I checked the time, still enough time for me to get there, so I turned to amend my route.
Then what with all the cars in the other lanes, the almost peak hour traffic, and the trams I turned again in what I thought was the right direction. I couldn’t pull over to check the map again, there was absolutely nowhere to go, so relying on instinct (cue hysterical laughter) I turned.
In the wrong direction.
I discovered this when, although on the correct road, I came across a suburb I’d already driven through. Crap, I thought, looking at the time. I was going to be seriously late now, assuming I could actually turn around and point the car in the right direction. I couldn’t.
If I was a braver person I would’ve persevered and just gone late but I’m not. I was frazzled by this point and annoyed with myself. My late entrance would be noted and then I’d need to use the bathroom, and needed another 5 minutes to get my dance shoes on. So instead I’ve decided to call it a dry run for next time.
(Yes, I realize I didn’t actually get there but at least now I know which way not to go.)
One of the perks of being married was that I never got lost as I never had to drive into the city. My husband had a much better sense of direction than me; let’s face it, everyone has a much better sense of direction than me.
I shall be buying myself a GPS for Christmas. Damn, I was going to treat myself to some new yoga gear.