I Amaze Myself

Sometimes, I wish I didn’t.  Let me explain.

So, I was driving to visit my grampa today for the first time in maybe a month.  Over the last year or so, I have driven to his house possibly 8-10 times, each time, needing to ask for directions.  So, I thought yesterday, “I know where I’m going.  Something’s bound to at least look familiar.”  Those thoughts should have been warning enough.

So, I’m driving in on 494 (Let me quick explain something.  Every time I get directions, I ask a different person.  My aunt swears by the 494 route, my mom and uncle recommend 394, I barely know the difference.)  and I start looking for a familiar sign.  My aunt said something about highway 6, or was it 7… wait, that sign says 5.  Well, I’ll hold out for a 6, but if I don’t see one in a few minutes, I’ll settle for whichever odd number is closer.

Aha!  6!  Now, hmmm… left feels right.  Ooooohh.  I recognize that road name.  Oh no, I recognize that one too.  In fact, I recognize almost all the road names.  Which road do I take?  Which way do I take it?  Let’s put it this way, I prefer to explore all of my possible options before going the “correct way.”  So, a half hour later, I arrived at my grampa’s house, about 2 miles from the exit.

The best part is, every time, my grampa reminds me of “Paul Windmuller’s Rules for Life #2: If you want to get where you’re going, never ask a woman for directions.”

I apologize to females everywhere, I definitely give us a bad name.

Addicted to Storms

My first summer in Madison is proving to be quite satisfactory in many areas, particularly the area of storms.  I love thunder.  I love lightning.  I love rain, puddles, and Gene Kelly–you know, the works.

You see, I’m the silly child who ran outside (to screams from my younger siblings, “No Elizabeth!  Don’t!  You’ll die!”) during tornado watches and thunderstorms to play in the rain or lie down in the lawn and stare at the lightning. Thankfully, no random lightning bolt or wind-blown tree took me out, as promised by my younger sister, Andrea.

Strangely enough, this recent plethora of late night storms has become problematic for me.  It seems that I cannot sleep.  It’s not the noise or even the beauty of listening to it (though it is beautiful), but moreso the excitement that is generated in me.  It’s like the electrical charges in the air impact the electrical firings in my brain.  Not in any logical sort of way, as the thoughts that are generated can’t even be put into words.  Suffice it to say, with this “revved up” state of being, it is quite difficult to sleep.

So, I read some David Sedaris–also not conducive to sleep, as I’ve found out.  His books are quite interesting and amusing.  I think the next book I’ll try will be either boring or utterly confusing…maybe even in French.  If I can’t bore my brain to sleep, I’ll just have to overwhelm it, leave it with a self-complex of inadequacy, and hope that it eventually gives up.  Depression of the brain.  Do they make a drug for this?

Ooooo… a yawn.  Yes!  Let me try this sleep thing again.

Goodnight.  I hope.