Preposterous

So here are two observations for me - I don't really care about anyone else as I've made abundantly clear - that I will note as true then either ignore or forget.

Number one is that I hate getting lost.  Which is another way of saying I hate to lose control.  And the first day in a new city, in a new culture, is THE day to get lost.  It makes me mad.  It infuriates me.

Yesterday we took a mental health day, a rest-the-feet day, to recover from all the traveling yesterday, the ultimate out-of-control day.  The only thing on the schedule was buying some groceries - and I got lost finding the grocery store, where things only cost $41, not $50, in cheaper Helsinki - and make a 3:30 meeting, an option not available to us on the ferry at some cost to our mental health.  Leaving plenty of time to get lost, I confidently march us out the door, point us in a direction 180 degrees from the direction that we . . . you know . . . actually need to go, and we stride purposefully away from the meeting for a good 20 minutes.  Knowing we were going to be late, I piss out and head for home - SuperK, calmer, suggests we find the meeting place anyway, lateness be damned, because there are several English speaking meetings held there.  We show up 1/2 hour late and enjoy half of a fine 8th Tradition meeting.

The other thing I hate is to be tired.  I want to feel fresh and rested all the time.  This is ridiculous when I'm in my home, fresh and rested and in control of a lot of stuff.  Enduring some stressful travel to-and-from days, battered by the extreme novelty of an alien culture, driven to see and too too much in the short space of time you have in a place you'll likely never see again?

Preposterous.