Get Lost
Matthew talks in his sleep.
No, really. He has sat up in bed, looked straight at me, and asked "Are you my Monday Night Football announcer? What’s the score?" And then he goes back to sleep.
We have a running joke that when I go in to grab a sweater or something (it’s freezing in my office!), I’ll pat him or give him a kiss and he’ll complain in his sleep.
"Stop."
"Come on, let’s go."
And, my personal favorite, "Get lost."
Obviously, this is not intentional, especially considering how dilusional he can sound when he’s sleeptalking. So whenever he wakes up he asks me quite earnestly, "Was I nice to you today?"
And, of course, I relish days I can tell him he actually told me to get lost. I think it’s funny.
(Side note - never laugh at Matthew Holmes’ sleeptalking - he gets even more mad. He’ll scowl and say, "It’s not funny! Why are you laughing?" Which sends me into fits of laughter.)
I unfortunately took his advice Monday night. I got completely lost.
I took my first independent trip to Opry Mills, the shopping mall next to Opryland (which I have not been to yet and am not sure I will ever step foot in). I’m looking for a dressy outfit to wear to Matthew’s soccer banquet where I actually get to meet people! So, in my consumer-driven head, it is essential I buy something that makes me look fabulous. I might actually get to make some friends!!
For the curious, I’m looking for a simple black skirt and nice, rather conservative short sleeve top or a black sheeth dress. You would think I’m looking for…I don’t know, Paris Hilton’s modesty. It is a frustrating proposition.
The directions to this mall are easy: Drive through the apartment complex, enter the main interstate where people drive 70 mph (this nearly gives me a heart attack on a regular basis), drive until the exit with Opryland on the sign, exit, turn into mall. And driving there was, excuse the pun, smooth sailing (unless you count almost exiting on the wrong exit and having to pull back onto the parkway, causing some huge van to swerve across three lanes to avoid hitting me. I may or may not have crossed myself 60 times).
The mall expedition itself was rather dull. I’m on this complete anti-spending trip (dropping several hundred dollars at Tiffany’s will do that to you…sigh), so everything I saw I talked myself out of buying. I have since remedied this behavior with a trip to Old Navy, which has a huge sale going on. Oh, that feels sooo good.
Driving back, however, was not so pleasant. Of course, I miss the sign and continue toward Nashville, realize my mistake too late to turn around, and continue on. "No biggie. I’ll just exit at the next exit and turn around."
Wrong! The city of Nashville has decided to rip out every interstate in the surround metropolitan area and replace it. Only they are replacing it with, I don’t know, bricks they carve into perfectly interlocking shapes รก la the Incans. It’s been like this for five years. But don’t worry - they’ll be done this summer.
So I can’t turn around. For three miles. I finally turn around in some neighborhood, only to find I can’t go north, I can only return to the road and continue to travel south. Sigh. So I do. And I exit again at the next exit.
Nope, can’t turn around to go north here, either. Left with no other choice, I stay the coarse.
This is all complicated by the fact that I know the names of exactly two roads in the entire city of Nashville. Two.
I have no idea where I am or where I am going. I am in a car that I fear will spontaneously explode or die at any moment, just for fun. And I’m entering an area of town I’ve never heard of. I pass six barbeque joints, seven truck repair garages, two railroad tracks, multiple dead end roads that end in a barbed wire fence (shudder).
I finally find myself in somewhat familiar territory ("37th street sounds like D.C….so that’s good…right?" And "okay, that looks like a bridge, and I should be around the Cumberland river…eventually"). And then - miracles! I find one of the streets I know - Broadway. I only know this because I have to take it to go to ballet because the shorter route was way too complicated.
I take Broadway allllll the way through the city, and back to driving-really-fast-next-to-speeding-trucks-and-jersey-walls interstate. And that all the way home.
(Except I miss my exit home and have to turn around. Again.)
