I have been having the devil’s own time trying to remember what day it is this week. This is possibly because I came back into town from Albany very early in the morning Monday after a weekend with the most ridiculous sleep schedule I have clocked in a while (A “night” sleeping 7am -2pm should not be followed by a night sleeping 3am-5am. Brains don’t get that.) But it is actually more likely to be due to the fact that I moved my work schedule around this week to accommodate leaving Friday morning for what I am, as of right now this very second, deeming “The Great NC Expedition of Johnny and Dani.”
It is going to be fabulous.
It is, however, also requisite of a little extra planning. You see, when I drive down there, bless the heart of my fantastic, ugly, green Subaru, it takes me two tanks of gas and I always stop at the same stations and at the same place for food (because hey, a girl’s gotta eat!). Johnny’s truck, especially when laden down with my furniture, does not get such kickass mileage.
And so, I switched into anal-retentive overdrive and began to plan. Where, oh where could we stop for gas to ensure that we still needed to stop at the same exit for food? Because, kids, there wasn’t anyway I was giving up a stop at the oh, so delicious National Sandwichery (you know, the one IJ works for that we don’t have in Jersey).
I my memory and the internet. I found addresses. I checked mileage interims. I occasionally looked at whatever my boss put on my desk. And finally, I came up with it. The perfect itinerary.
Do you know me? Because if you do, you know how freakin’ jazzed that made me. Some people say perfection is a newborn baby (Heck, the census even says babies count as people); I say that perfection is an exactly cataloged and calibrated list. I may have needed new slacks when I was done…maybe.
I was, in fact, so jazzed that I started thinking about how awesome it would have been if I was one of those folks who planned the routes of ships back in the days of yore. I would have been the best ship-route-planner in all of England (no, I am not English at all, but that is where I assumed I would be route-planning…because of Muppet Treasure Island, I think)
Since I still had anal-retentive mode switched on from the mapping, it really bothered me that I couldn’t remember if that job would have been called Cartographer or Navigator. Like, super annoying, made-me-kinda-itchy botherd me. So I presented Google with the following query:
“who would plan a ships route in the 1700s”
Google’s biggest issue with this is that I forgot to put an apostrophe in “ships”. Seriously, guys? That question should simply return a white screen that says “You are an idiot. Don’t ask stupid crap.”
…perhaps I should have my google privileges revoked.