Banjo Man went on a road trip without me yesterday.

That was a little sad for me, because instead of sitting in the heated passenger seat and giving directions while drinking coffee and punching out songs from the I-pod, I stayed home, at my desk, to work.

I don’t like to stay home and work.

This is the very last time.

Banjo Man bought himself a brand new 2015 large-print road map.  He doesn’t trust my Garmin GPS device, especially not after the Road Through Chicago Debacle of last October, when I trusted the GPS directions and Banjo Man woke up from his nap to discover we were driving to O’Hare airport.

He didn’t even want the Garmin in the car.  He dumped it on a chair in the workroom before he left.  I’ll rescue it for June, though.  Because when it works I love it.

I know I can find Idaho in here somewhere.

He called to say he’d arrived safely, but reluctantly admitted he’d passed two exits before realizing he’d missed his turn.

See?  He needed me to scream, “Here!  Turn here!  I told you, TURN HERE!!!!”

I’ll bet Banjo Man wished I was there.

I wish I was here.