So, the King of Jordan is coming to campus tomorrow. They’ll block off some roads and put up cones and such. One road to my parking lot is already closed because of contruction, and they didn’t quite get the alternate directions right.
Stay with me, there’s a point to this. I decided to go for a lunchtime walk today. It was really, really cold, and I wasn’t dressed properly. I lost track of how far I had gone, and basically ended up in about 21 degree weather in thin slacks jogging around campus, my thighs numb.
Yesterday, I got lost in a neighborhood I used to know pretty well on my way to the doctor. A ten minute trip took a half hour. On the radio they were talking about how wrong GPS systems can be. I would have sold my soul for one.
I hate being lost. I really, really hate it. In my youth, especially abroad, it wouldn’t bother me at all. Wander through windy Greek streets, stop in a cafe, practice my vocabulary to find my way back. Now…ugh.
I have NO tolerance for getting lost when I write. I feel as if everything I’ve encountered on the road is reflected in my writing right now. I just hit a dead end. Back up. What are they doing in Egypt again? I don’t know. Try a different route. Read the whole thing from the beginning. Oh no! It sucks. Do I hate to trash this WIP?
I’d better go read my horoscope, or consult Madam Philomena. I’ve had terrifying dreams lately–I mean, truly horrifying.
Does one theme run through every aspect of your life at the same time? Are you like me? Sometimes sadness, sometimes absolute kick-ass invulnerability, and now…lost.