Don't ask me for directions.
L is still feeling pretty miserable, which is to be expected, and still isn't talking very much. She is perfecting her hand gestures to get what she wants though.
I had to run some errands today, including picking up L's prescription. While I was walking home on a side street, a guy in a company van pulled over and asked me for directions. Now, we've lived here for almost 5 years but I'm still not completely familiar with how to get to all of the little villages and hamlets in the area. Fortunately, I did know how to get to the one he was asking about (mostly because L's friend lives near there) so I told him.
Except I gave him the wrong highway number.
This town is built at the crossroads of two numbered highways and I'm forever screwing them up. Which makes no sense since the street I live on IS one of those numbered highways. You'd think I could keep them straight.
I realized after he pulled away that I'd said the wrong highway and that he was going to get to the corner, see the signs, and think I was a complete moron. And sure enough, when I was cutting through a parking lot, I saw him drive by, heading down the wrong road.
I felt somewhat better after I told Ice the story and he screwed up the numbers too. Especially considering he grew up here.
If they'd just rename one of them to "Ripley's Road", it would make things much simpler.