I have had a rough couple of weeks. I won’t go in to the details today, but lets just say that I am ON EDGE. That being said, life doesn’t stop because I am on EDGE…apparently, God says, I think you can handle one more thing. I personally think God is overestimating me, but doctrinally speaking, I can’t handle anything without Him, so He certainly wouldn’t overestimate Himself, so theoretically, it will all work out OK.
At any rate, I had some things to do yesterday, one of which was driving to Anderson to see some friends. For those of you not reading this blog from SC, it is important to note that my life basically runs along the I-85 corridor. The corridor of dreams. A driving pleasure to be sure. I live in Greenville. My dearest friends live in Anderson. South to Atlanta or North to Charlotte you can pretty much accomplish anything you need to do. My husband works between Greenville and Spartanburg, right off I-85. Of course, at some point you will need to hang a left to Western North Carolina to get to the rest of my family, but you can do that from I-85 as well.
I am leaving Anderson, driving to my husband’s work in Duncan when my latest adventure occurred. I have never been to my husband’s job in Duncan, so I needed navigational assistance. Now, to be fair, I am not a horrid wife. My husband’s job location changes with the winds and he has only been in Duncan for about a month. I have no need on a regular basis to drive past Greer on the corridor of dreams, so I knew that once I got off at Exit 63, I was clueless.
Now I have been a Google Map girl for as long as I can remember. I don’t love the navigation that comes on the iPhone, so I always download Google Maps. However, my aforementioned husband introduced me to the app Waze. It is a navigation app that others log in to and you can alert other drivers to accidents, hidden police, detours, etcetera. I do not know why I did this…but I decided to use Waze to get me to Duncan. I plugged in the address, hit go, and rocked on.
Again, I am ON EDGE. I am trying to listen to what I call “Jesus Music”. I do not use this term derogatorily. I used to be absolutely against “Jesus Music” other than within the walls of church, but I realized that if I listen to this in the car, it comes back to me in my head at interesting moments….some useful, some not so much. I don’t think I need to be reminded that God’s Not Dead while I’m using the bathroom, but hey, you never know. But my “JM” isn’t working for me. It is irritating me. I am grumpy. Then, it starts to rain. Pour. I’m on the corridor of dreams, otherwise known as a giant death trap if you had not already picked up on my sarcasm, and I can’t find music that is soothing. Then it hits me. I have downloaded the old Norah Jones CD Come Away With Me. It is always good to listen to to just chill. So I fired up Norah, and settled in to as much zen as you can find doing 80 mph in the rain on the corridor of dreams. I have just about decided that I think Jesus has ordained this Norah Jones CD when out of the clear blue, through my car speakers, Mr. T’s voice YELLS: INCIDENT AHEAD, YOU BETTER BE ALERT! (Ya’ll know you just said this in your head in his voice!)
Since when in the name of all things holy did Mr. T start up into the navigational business. It is a small wonder that I did not swerve into a barrier wall in that moment. My heart stopped. Then it re-started. Mr. T totally shanghaied my zen. I can get it back. It’s cool. Mr. T is not in my car and he is not yelling at me.
Norah sings on. The rain falls. I am good. INCIDENT AHEAD, YOU BETTER BE ALERT! He did it again. How do I turn this off. I was just as startled the 2nd time as I was the 1st. I am not going to survive this. Who over at Waze is getting paid good IT dollars to come up with this. This is deadly. People are going to die. I am going to be one of them. I can’t die today. I haven’t eaten at The Cheesecake Factory lately and I do not want to die if that hasn’t been close to my last meal.
OK. You can’t fix this right now. You are driving 80 mph. It is raining. You are just going to have to be OK with this until you get off the interstate…I mean…the corridor of dreams. I know that Mr. T yelled at me no less than 5 more times before I got to my exit about what I assume to be the same INCIDENT, which I NEVER SAW.
Finally, exit 63. No more incident’s ahead. This nightmare is almost over. TURN RIGHT AHEAD. Dear Lord. This is never going to end. Mr. T will not shut up. I wonder if my husband has done this to me. I mean, Mr. T did not accidentally get in my phone did he? I do not think so. Mr. T, not so lovingly, guided me into my husband’s place of employment. I have arrived at my destination. I walk toward my husband.
I PITY THE FOOL!