Lost

I can't really say I was lost because I knew exactly where I was, but I wasn't supposed to be there.

Let me explain: With a singular sense of purpose, I set off to pick up Snuffy today. I couldn't take the normal direct route to Seattle, typically about 75 miles straight south, because a bridge collapsed on the interstate necessitating major detours via surface streets which were unbelievably complicated and added a couple hours travel time, perhaps a little more because I got lost, twice. There's something disorenting about being in serious traffic which just sweeps you along whether you want to go in its direction or not. It's also embarrassing because it's familiar territory but in my defense it was a traffic nightmare.

For the most part, I straightened myself out and got to the kitty hospital, snatched Snuffy up, and headed home. I did just fine until I got to the northbound detour and promptly got lost again. By the time I figured things out I was on Chuckanut Drive which is a 10-15 mile scenic drive along the Washington coast which is justifiably considered to be one of the most beautiful roads in the US. How I got on it when I was aiming for the interstate was the bewildering part, but once I realized where I was I decided it was a pretty nice place to be so I stayed there. It turned out to be a calming moment, and I decided to blip it because it was so beautiful. Snuffy was safe, I felt better and we both arrived home in a pretty good mood.

Snuffy has settled back into his routine without a hitch. Lizzie has hissed at him a couple of times but he hasn't zapped her with any radioactive lightning bolts yet so I think he's pretty happy to be home. Of course nothing bad had happened to him and everything was just fine. I feel silly that I was so worried about him, but what can I say -- he's my Snuffy.