Turnpike Trouble

I have a bad history of getting turned around on the Florida Turnpike.  Back in 2003, I went south when I should've gone north and ended up spending the night in Yeehaw Junction.  It's a much longer and funnier story, but apparently my original blog was wiped off of its server before I could archive it.  You'll just have to take my word for it!

Last year, I got the Turnpike and 408 mixed up and ended up near the Florida Mall instead of my car dealership on East Colonial.

So today?  It's shameful, but not surprising.  Take a look at this image.  I started out at Track Shack (uppper-right corner) and was supposed to follow the blue line left towards home.  Instead, I took the scenic red route.

Here's what happened:

I took 408 westbound toward home, and decided not to take the 50 exit because I wanted to avoid the Ocoee traffic/traffic lights.  I thought I'd merge onto the Turnpike and get off near Winter Garden Village to stop at Publix for dinner fixin's.  Where 408 ended, my options were Turnpike North or South.  My muscle memory told me to go North, but my brain had a moment of panic and at the last minute I decided to go South.

I was literally about 10 feet past where the concrete barricade on the right starts when I realized I had gone the wrong direction.  Even worse: I was pretty sure there were no exits before I-4.

There's a service plaza a few minutes down the road -- one of those that exists in the middle of the road so it's accessible to travelers going both directions -- but I figured I wouldn't be able to switch directions there.  As I drove past, I noticed some of the signage at the exit of the service plaza.

I could've switched directions there.

So I went all the way to I-4 and then meandered around the back side of Disney towards home.  The trip that Google Maps tells me should've only taken 23 minutes ended up taking more than an hour.  Like I said, it's shameful but not surprising.  I'm an excellent navigator, but not when I'm also the pilot.

Static Oops

Sixth Grade Jamie dressed me today for work. She put me in black leggings, a mid-thigh-length sweater, and red boots. Sixth Grade Jamie loved leggings and long sweaters…  

Actually, that’s the last page of the story. The truth is that my sixth grade self was forced to assist when I was already at work because my 34-year-old self couldn't seem to get it right this morning. I started out today wearing the leggings (which are actually capri-length spandex running pants) and boots under an ankle-length knit skirt, with a simple black top. It was one of those “if I’m going to keep that skirt in the closet, I’m going to have to wear it eventually” sort of ensembles that was serviceable but not really something I would generally wear.

It turns out, the skirt was NOT AT ALL serviceable. The heat is on in my office building, and the dry air turned me into a giant ball of static cling. Every time I got up from my desk, the skirt would bunch, cling, and ride up. It was the dry air/skirt version of a wet t-shirt. And it was awful. A quick internet search told me hairspray works against cling, so my officemate was nice enough to lend me hers. I think it made it worse! The anti-static monitor wipes in my desk (basically lint-free slightly damp towelettes) didn’t help me either.

Within two hours, I had reached my breaking point. I decided to just pretend that the long cardigan I keep in my office for cool days was a sweater dress. It’s not the least attractive ensemble I’ve ever worn to work, but I was joking all day that I feel like Wonder Woman in an overcoat.

Truthfully, I don't hate the outfit I ended up in.  But I don't think I'd wear it again.  The sweater ended up just as staticky as the darn skirt, and I ended up having to tug it back down every time I stood up.

Anyway, I just wanted to give a shout-out to Sixth Grade Jamie for helping me out today, and also thank everyone in advance who participates in my upcoming Kickstarter to buy a full-length mirror before I break my neck standing on the edge of the bathtub in heels...

One Story, Two Versions

The Short Version:
I woke up this morning, brushed my teeth, washed my hair, dried my hair, got dressed, and left for work. I went to the safety meeting, shared pretzel nuggets, and then worked the rest of my shift.

The Long Version:
I woke up this morning at 3:51 - ten minutes before I was supposed to be at work. I flew out of bed, brushed my teeth, washed the top half of my hair from outside the tub, dried enough of my hair to get it started curling under, got dressed, ran downstairs, grabbed my purse, keys, and the bowl of pretzel nuggets, and left for work at exactly 4:00. I called to tell one of the third shift managers that I would be late and drove quickly but safely to work in exactly 30 minutes, went to the safety meeting where I was openly mocked for my tardiness, shared pretzel nuggets (and was forgiven for my tardiness because they were so darn tasty), and then worked the rest of my shift.

Strangely enough, I set two alarms last night. One went off an hour early and one didn't go off at all. It's good to know I can make it from passed out asleep to sitting at work in 39 minutes. It usually takes me longer than that just to drive to work, plus over an hour of awake time before leaving the house! Just the same, I don't think I'll be doing that again any time soon!

Who's Ready?

Who's ready to hear Jamie's embarrassingly stupid illness/injury story for September? (you can catch up on August's sunburn or July's self-imposed bronchitis if necessary)

On the way home from the grocery store, we stopped at the mailboxes and I hopped out to check the mail. I told Scott to drive home, that I needed a walk (damn that pedometer strapped to my hip!). So I picked up the mail and set off home.

Because the first house on our street hasn't been built yet (don't ask me - they built the second house first), the sidewalk doesn't go all the way home. Where the sidewalk ended, I walked down the little ramp to get to the street, slipped on some mud, and then I think I tripped on my own shoe.

What happened next was something of a slow-motion blur. I know for sure that when I tripped with my right foot, I fell onto my right knee, and then my left foot slid in the slippery mud about 8 feet to the side, away from my ass.

It was sort of like this, only replace the blue sky with mud, switch out a handful of mail for the pom in her left hand, and a palmful of pebbles and mud in the right hand. Oh, and erase the enthusiastic smile. An embarrassed smirk is much more appropriate.

Scott was mightily freaked out when I got home and he saw that my jeans were soaked from the knee down in the front of my right leg and in the back of my left leg.

The injuries are minor. I have road rash on the top of my right foot and a pretty wicked goose egg on my right knee. My left hamstring will likely hurt pretty badly in the morning, but I made Scott go out and walk with me when football was over, hoping a little stretch would relax the muscle and convince it to not freak out. I'm also a little concerned about my left ankle, but I don't think it really hurts that much more than normal.

I'll take a bruised knee any day over last month's sunburn. But allow me just a moment to whiiiine about it.

Thank you!

Today's Fun Typo

They'll probably get it fixed before too long, but here's the link.

I love it when the typo is in the headline. It makes my mocking so much easier!