17.6.10

I Swear...

I love my husband... In spite of the fact that he is SEVERELY directionally impaired.

Case in point: Last week I was in LA all week. On Wednesday, I got a call from him asking me how to get to the post office. It's literally less than two miles straight up the road. He's been there a few times (with me). I told him that it's up the road on the left. I gave him cross streets. He called back a few minutes later to tell me that he can't find the post office. I asked him where he was and he told me the corner (or what he believed was the corner). Yeah. So he was on the totally wrong street. The saddest part is, he even located himself on his phone and still couldn't figure out what he'd done wrong. So that was kind of funny.

Then, yesterday, he left the house at 8:30a to go for a quick run. At 10:15, I realized he'd been gone for a long time and decided to call him. Only problem? His phone started to ring in the bedroom. So I started to get a little concerned. I decided to take the car and see if I could find him. Just as I was about to lock the door he walked up.

Yep. Lost. While running. I swear he's not an idiot, but he couldn't find his way out of an envelope without directions. He's lived here for 7 years. SEVEN. And still can't remember how to get to Caesar's. And the worst part? He panics.

When I was a wee girl, I hated the idea of being 'lost.' Lost meant irretrievable. We would never see home again. If my mother mentioned the word 'lost' in the context of me and where we were, I flipped out. And by this I mean I sobbed uncontrollably until we were 'found.' Fortunately, I have a really good sense of direction. And as I got older, I developed a willingness to not know exactly where I am. As an adult, I've never felt really lost. I feel like the only place I can really be lost is in the woods of Burkittsville, Maryland with the Blair Witch after me, in the desert, or in the middle of the ocean. All three of those places could mean I'll never find where I'm going. But in any reasonably populated area, I'm fine. In a city where I live/have lived, I'm totally fine.

The last time Matt and I drove back from Phoenix, we ended up on the 'wrong' road. Matt freaked out. Like I did when I was little. Like we'd never find our way home again. I knew where we were. Not exactly, obviously, but we were in Vegas. No sweat. I had to convince Matt to pull over, though, so I could drive, because he was (as my mother used to say of me) beyond zebra -- which is one of the best non-contextual uses of part of a kids' book title ever. I've never heard anyone else use it in this fashion, but it's kind of perfect for describing his state of mind at that moment. He was so upset.

I kind of understand because I remember the feeling. What I don't understand, though, is why, as an adult, he gets so irrationally upset. We've talked about it and he doesn't know either. I'm sure part of it is embarrassment. But it's more than that. However, until we find him a therapist (because he has issues), that will wait. I think whatever it is is kind of huge. In the meantime, I'm making him take the GPS everywhere he goes - even running. That way all he has to do is press the Home button and a nice lady we call Gypsy will tell him, turn by turn, how to get there.

Wouldn't it be fantastic if someone would develop a Life-Direction GPS? Teleporters would be fucking awesome, but for my money, a GPS to point me home when life goes astray is much more useful sounding.

2 comments:

Kristie said...

It sounds to me like he gets really upset out of total frustration and like you said..embarrassment. Poor guy.

Dorothy said...

Yeah. It's hard for him. But I'm glad we have the GPS. It will make things easier - if he'll use it...