My headphones delivered the loud BING of an incoming text message right about the same time I began to suspect I was lost.
I carefully shifted my vibrams to my left hand, so as not to dump out the shells I had collected, and…
What? Wet barefoot running shoes don’t make for happy feet, but it doesn’t mean they can’t perform an admirable impression of a happy bucket.
read the incoming message from my husband: “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, got distracted by some shells at the tidal pool. Be back shortly.”
I was peripherally aware that the tidal pool was less than a half mile from our hotel, having mapped out my intended running route earlier in the day.
Twenty minutes later my post-partum bladder upgraded its urgency alert from mild to severe prompting me to send another text.
“Can you go out on the balcony and look for me?”
Several minutes of -“can you see me now”- and he determined that I had missed both our hotel and its loud hip-hop-party-hosting neighbor.
By about a mile.
One would assume that walking from beach to hotel, then hotel to beach, more than twice a day for 3 days would have imprinted the building on my brain.
Or maybe I noticed the bright red boat that had spent the day anchored 200 yards off-shore directly across from our room.
All I could do (continue to do) is laugh at myself. I can even applaud my response as a positive character trait after reading the findings from a small research study that suggests that “laughing at oneself may be the foundation for a good sense of humor”.
Note: “How to Laugh at Yourself” is going to part of a regular series where I share my embarrassing ADHD moments and how they taught me not to take my mistakes (or myself) too seriously. I hope y’all enjoy them!