The little box in the upper left-hand corner had the u-turn sign. So naturally my sis and I thought that meant to immediately make a u-turn… which meant we all in the SUV following the directions of the GPS were making a u-turn every 1/4 mile. We circled that little tract of highway about six times before I said, in a very nice voice, not the least bit agitated at the stupid GPS that has, I might add, caused multiple deaths by suggesting routes that led people into hazards such as snow, “I’m just going straight; what is wrong with that stupid thing?”
And, of course, there was nothing wrong with it. Something was wrong with us, the operators. Well, actually only one of us, Darla, because she was the main reader of the thing. I was only glancing down occasionally. After our 30-minute u-turn trek and my rebellion to a different highway, we went back through a toll and onto a different road that led us straight back to our u-turn road. So Terah finally sits up and says, “I think that means in about 4 1/2 miles we’ll make a u-turn.” Thank God for Terah or Darla and I would still be on that little stretch of road making one u-turn after another.
Sure enough! Once the operator, a/k/a Darla, really looked at it, that’s exactly what it had been showing us. We had “Sister” turned down, so we couldn’t hear her telling us to go straight, you dummies. Well, actually, she’s much nicer than that. She just tells us in her bored, not-these-dummies-again voice to go straight. We finally reached our destination, the ten-minute trip that took about an hour, and jumped out to shop. Yippee! By then I was so tired all I wanted to do was sit on the orphan bench (that little spot where the shopping orphans wait on the spouse/friends to get done) and enjoy the nice breeze on a nice evening.
Until we (Terah was with me at this time) got the “We have found the miracle worker sales clerk” text. Terah was on that like flies attracted to cat poo and got her second wind to hop up and say “I’d better go down there and see what’s happening.” I waited another ten minutes or so before I finally couldn’t stand it anymore either, and even though I had these nasty blisters on the balls of my feet from walking on the sand, I hobbled on down to Ann Taylor to meet the “miracle worker.” I was starved! I thought all I cared about was eating… but, lo and behold, I could have stayed in Ann Taylor’s another hour or two if Dar hadn’t already been checking out.
We hook up Sister for more u-turn and toll-paying tomorrow.