I am home from my trip. I would have proclaimed it far more loudly yesterday, but I was too busy doing the zombie shuffle while making an important delivery. There is no way to express my elation over being home. I need a sign that says "Does not travel well." And I don't. I have several reasons why. One being because I guess I'm just really, really attached to my home. Another is because GPS units hate me.
Yeah. They hate me so much they try to kill me.
Imagine the following, if you will.
GPS: Ding! "Recalculating!"
Me: *In a tone made of demons, snakes, and lava* Shut up!
Husband: "Don't yell at the GPS! Last time you yelled at a GPS, it shorted out and died...mid-trip."
Me: "Hey, that was a matter of self defense. That *curseword* tried to kill me. It was a matter of kill or be killed."
Husband: "The GPS did not try to kill you."
Me: *Shooting him a look that should have killed him* "When someone yells at me because I didn't follow their directions to drive off a cliff and into a two-thousand feet deep ravine, I somehow start believing they are orchestrating my death. Call me crazy, but that doesn't exactly scream friendly to me."
GPS: Ding! "GPS signal lost."
Husband: "You just screwed up the GPS again..."
Me: "It's not screwed up. It's realized it's following the same path as its predecessor. It's revising its plan to murder me."
So, does anyone else find their GPS trying to murder them? I'm curious if I'm the only one. If not, I'd like to see how your GPS has tried to murder you. ~ D. F. Krieger