Because you shouldn't ask me for directions.

I've lived here for how long? Nearly a year and a half? Yes. And my pal, Erin? Nearly a year. You'd think we'd know how to get to Point A from Point B. But no, this is not the truth.

We took a trip up the highway last night to The Mall. A mall we've both frequented probably too many times because, hi, we're girls. But this particular night, ahem, last night, there was road construction on The Highway. And it was Ugly. So ugly, in fact, we figured we'd be men and take back roads home after our trip to the mall. And also by being men, that meant, No Way, we're not asking for directions. Besides, we had the setting sun to guide us. (And apparently we are guided by the sun now, too?)

So we find a "side road" that headed in the particular direction we were interested in. That would be south. And also sort of away from the setting sun. Yes, that's how it went. So we're driving, or, she's driving, rather. I'm kind of just laughing because, really people, we have no idea where we're going and how. And why. And, wait a minute, the sun sets in the west, right?

We're so screwed.

So the road we're on ends. So we turn. Left. Or right. Or in whatever direction looks "least likely to end with our grizzly deaths in horror movie fashion out on the country roads at dusk." OK, so, left. And now it's dark. And we've lost sight of The Highway we were relying on to guide us in the right direction. And, shoot, the sun's gone.

We began judging our moves by the condition of the road.

"Well, this doesn't look very promising. The road doesn't have lines. Turn right."


"Oh! This looks good. Look! Houses! Go straight."


"Turn right, I see lights."


"There's another car ahead of us. He must know where he's going. This looks good. But turn left anyway."

Or the best line of the night, from Yours Truly, spoken in all seriousness...

"No, don't go left. The moon's right there."

(Because I'm also guided by the moon? Which I believe has no correlation whatsoever with direction).

And by now we're lost. Very lost. And passing names of unincorporated municipalities we've never heard of. We were definitely in Texas by now. I was convinced. And nothing surrounded us but country. And fields. And probably our looming death by Field Men With Chainsaws, because that sort of thing totally happens around here. And also in movies. That my parents watch.

But we're definitely laughing hysterically the whole time because if we didn't, we'd totally cry like a couple of girls. I mean, uh, we handled it with the bravery of navigators in a new world.

And then, suddenly, salvation. A highway! A semi-unfamiliar highway, but a highway nonetheless, and a sign stated, in more words or less, "Home - That Way," so we went south. And 15 miles later, there we were. Home territory. Also an hour later, for a trip which normally take about 21 minutes.

Today I looked at a map, found the names of the towns we traveled through, and somehow we ended up in the northwestern portion of the county, when I was convinced we were at least in the southeast corner.

Moral of the story is: Hey, we got home. We rule. And also, don't turn left if the moon is there.

Read Erin's account of this story here.