What happens when I get lost

 

Yesterday I got lost.

I was meant to be at a potluck at 7.30pm, but I only left the house at 7.30pm. Because I knew that waiting for the bus would be a foolish idea, I jumped into a taxi that had pulled over to drop someone off at Pietrasanta.

That taxi driver was probably the slowest driver in the history of taxi drivers. He drove at 30 km/h - I was almost jumping out of my seat when we finally got there.

I took the train to Clementi, and then walked, and then got lost.

Something funny happens when I get lost and am in a hurry.

I start talking to myself.

'Okay, you're just going to keep walking straight, and then turn left, and then hopefully, hopefully, there will be a road.'

'Why is that man smoking I am sure he's under age. His lungs think he's under aged. There is not age for smoking.'

'This is really great exercise. Yup, you keep telling yourself that Miriam.'

'This might be enjoyable if it wasn't so flipping hot.'

'You see this is why I never blog these days. I have all this creative energy and it just gets wasted when I get lost and start talking to myself.'

It must have worked because after about 20 minutes (in which time I managed to not spill the mexican-lasagna-dip-tortilla chip thing I was holding) I found the place!

'I am a champion. I did it. I found it. I am the WORLD'S SWEATIEST CHAMPION RIGHT NOW.'