Lookout Mountain, Chattanooga

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Admittedly direction-challenged

Some of us follow directions.  Some of us don't.

Usually, I try to be a follower.  Before a recent trip to visit my daughter, I conscientiously printed out directions; I'd never driven there by myself and knew very little about the city.  Following the directions, or so I thought, I ended up pouting in a parking lot nowhere near her home.  An additional hour and a half dragged by before we hugged hello.  Goodness. 

My friend and I roamed Dollywood for hours with our kids in tow, trying to figure a way out.  Was it really our fault that the map was useless?

Then there was the time I followed directions when putting together an inexpensive stereo cabinet.  I slapped the thing together, screwing in the appropriate screws.  I realized, too late, that the raw edge of the pressed board faced frontward.  Gosh! 

What do you suppose happens when I don't follow directions? 

If you read an earlier entry, you know about the dreaded treadmill incident.  I still have the bruises and skinned knees to prove it.  My bathroom faucets bear evidence of products wrongly used.  Those are visible scars--no telling the damage to my psyche.  I've had to replace things, make do, and apologize.

So my advice today is to  follow directions--whether they come from an agent, a publisher, or the back of a household cleanser. 

And I promise you this:  I will not operate heavy machinery under any circumstances.

No comments:

Post a Comment