I enjoy being me more often than not.
When I am driving and I get lost though, I want to be anyone else.
I get warm all over. But not in a good way. I get mad and frustrated and curse my personality.
Sometimes I cry.
I pull over and ask which way is Yonge St as though I am from Botswana. When the person starts to explain it to me I ask them to sssssllllloooooowwww down because I am getting confused. “Could you draw it for me?” I always ask.
Once  when I was about 20, I invited a couple dozen friends to my cottage and gave them wrong directions. I felt like Mary Tyler Moore throwing a bad party where no one shows up-so a few of us drank all the beer and went skinny dipping. Around midnight the sweaty travellers arrived telling me that the right was a left and that the garage roof was red not green.
Details. Details. Details.
Maybe your next story should be about trying to dig out your rear wheels in a front wheel drive van that was stuck?
oh yeah. I blocked that one out.