I've heard it said that New England doesn't have four seasons, but rather two: winter and construction. There is a lot of truth to that and these days, as all the construction is happening around my house, I find myself taking a great many detours.
Unfortunately, my sense of direction is about as bad as this foolish fellow's.
Fortunately, my husband was born with what seems to me an internal and biological Global Positioning System.
Also fortunately (?) my oldest son was born with the same. Ever since he was very, very small he's been shouting orders from the back seat, telling me when I've made a wrong turn. For a long time he kept a compass with him in the car-- just in case-- and whenever he fell asleep while I was driving the first thing he would ask when he awoke was always, "Do you know where you are?"
"Yes, I know where I am."
When we first moved here, he and his father had all sorts of "secret" short cuts around town and when I happened upon one of these myself one day, he had to call his father at work when we got home to tell him that they had been discovered.
But it isn't all bad. He's navigated me out of many a jam and directed our course sure and true to more than one birthday party. He's also proved very adept at directing others who are driving him home. And now that there is paving all around us, I rely upon him.
Just today, we took some back roads trying to get out of our neighborhood. I had never been down those roads. Suddenly they opened up to a familiar intersection, but we approached it from an entirely unfamiliar angle. It was like meeting up with your mailman in the deli line of an out of town grocery store. You know the face, but you can't... quite... place... it.
"Ahhh, here we are," Simeon said from the back.
Yes, but where exactly?
"I want to go this way?" I asked trying to gain my bearings.
"You could go that way if you want to," he replied,"but you'll end up on the wrong side of town if you do."
I turned the opposite way and, sure enough, he was right.