#28 in a Series...Tell Me Where to Go

Mike wrapped all the Christmas gifts this year, because I was up to my eyeballs in book revisions.  He’s never been Chief Gift Wrapper before.  Now that I think about it, he wraps an average of two or three gifts a year, because I always buy myself several gifts that I wrap and mark “To Terri from Mike”. 

I highly recommend this system.  I haven’t returned a gift in years. 

I unwrap my presents and exclaim stuff like “It’s just exactly what I wanted!”  and “How did you know?”  then we laugh and everyone is happy.  Mike usually gets me one surprise, and one thing for Daphni, but Christmas is definitely my domain. 

Mike spread out the wrapping paper, ribbon and tags on the dining room table, and I brought gifts out of their hiding places.  Pretty soon, he was grumbling, “How long does this usually take?” 

I replied, “I usually block off a day for gift wrapping.”   We actually had fewer gifts to open this year, because new luggage for our European vacation was our family gift.

When we opened gifts Friday evening, Mike commented on how he knew what was in every package. (btw it was fun for me not to know for a change).  He also noticed that gifts get unwrapped a lot faster than you can wrap them!

The sweater, jeans and boots I’d bought for myself were under the tree, of course.   So was a surprise from Mike.

It was a Garmin.

I texted Kelly:  “Guess what Mike got me for Christmas?”

“A velour bikini?”  ha ha very funny—that’s another story from another year…

“No—a Garmin.”

          “LOL but you have to USE it…”

Yeah, yeah.  My sense of direction, or the lack thereof, is legendary.  I get lost a lot.

I’m willing to try to work with the Garmin, because I’m going to need to know how to use a sat/nav after I move to Texas.  I’ll have no chance without one.  I realize this.  I  need to learn how to use it.

But GPS lies.  Yes it does. You know it’s true. 

I once tried to use satellite navigation and literally ended up in a cornfield instead of at the spa.  About 85% of the deliverymen and service people that try to find our house call, perplexed, from the other side of the subdivision because their sat/navs had told them to turn left instead of right. 

I don’t trust sat/navs.  I prefer to drive in circles than to listen as a computer complains about how it’s forced to recalculate because I keep screwing up.  I get enough grief like that from the humans in my life.  Really.

This afternoon, I announced I was going out to Target, and Mike hurried to attach the Garmin to the windshield with its suction cup before I left.  Target is 2.5 miles away, but I didn’t protest.  I need to get used to it.  Baby steps.

I was halfway to Target when the suction cup failed and the whole thing fell into my lap, startling me.  I put it on the floor while I was inside the store, and on the way back, I tried to reattach it, then gave up and held in my left hand while I drove. 

Even though it wasn’t programmed for any particular location, it started hollering at me to TURN LEFT ON ASHBURTON!!  TURN LEFT ON ASHBURTON!!  Recalculating…  TURN LEFT ON KELLNER!!  DANGIT TURN LEFT ON KELLNER!!  Ok never mind… recalculating…geez.

It sounded suspiciously like…Daphni.   My Garmin was programmed with a teenager’s scorn and sense of irony.  Perfect.

I glanced down and pushed the “back” button.  Then Garmin self-righteously informed me that I shouldn’t push any buttons while I was driving and did I want to override the safety feature?  I had to look at the screen to see where to push the button to override the safety feature, which probably wasn’t very safe.   

I hit the “no, for gosh sakes don’t let me fiddle with this thing while I’m driving” button.  It grumbled something I couldn’t quite make out.  I wished I could find the mute button, but I was driving a stick and a girl can only multi-task so much.

At the traffic light two blocks from home, I managed to hit the “yes override your best judgement and let me fix this” button, and found “Take me Home”.  Ok then.

Garmin helpfully piped up “Turn Left onto Stanview in point one miles…point one miles…POINT ONE MILES…TURN LEFT.

Thanks, Rain Man.  I so got this.

A block later, it instructed me to TURN LEFT to get HOME. LEFT. LEFT. HOME. HOME.

Garmin’s lack of confidence in me is evident.  I swear I heard it heave a sigh of exasperation when I turned into the driveway.  Or maybe it was a sigh of relief. 

It’s like driving when Mike is riding shotgun.  Keep it up, Garmin, and I’ll show you what it’s like to get left…home.