I’m not used to the time change yet. Twice during my nightly walk, (ok, not every night, but some nights), it’s been dark by the time I turned toward home.
Tonight, a car goes by when I’m on Weldon, almost home. The car stops. YIKES. Backs up, DOUBLE YIKES, and a guy sticks his head out the passenger window. But I’m not afraid. I’m carrying a twig for defense.
“Hey, can you tell me how to get back to San Phillipo?”
Sigh. Sure, I can do that.
“Turn around,” I said, “go to the second stop sign and turn left.” Now, I’m motioning with my left arm, telling him over and over, turn left. “The road curves around into San Phillipo.”
“Got it. Go to the second stop sign and turn left.”
The driver turns the car around. I watch them drive away and realize they need to turn right! Facing the opposite direction, motioning with my left hand, I said left. But it’s right!
“Turn right,” I yell. They keep driving. “Hey! Turn right.” I run after them, sorta, two steps, maybe three. “Right. Hey, turn right.”
They turned left. I ran the rest of the way home. Tony say’s I should wear a sign around my neck, “Warning, can’t tell her right from her left.”
