That's Not My Subaru

For the most part I am detailed-oriented. In my work I basically get paid to organize information. I do lots of i-dotting and t-crossing, color-choosing and contrasting, spell-checking and kerning. I look at things closely and from a good distance and think about all of the small parts and how they make up the whole. I proofread with a vengeance because nothing bugs me more than missing a typo or finding a double space hanging out where there should only be a single one. I like to sweat the small stuff.

Of course, who could stand to be that detail-oriented all of the time!? There has to be a yang to that yin. For me, it is driving, parking and where the hell did I put my keys?! When I am running errands, I often switch to automatic pilot, miss my turn and have to re-route myself the long way. My husband always knows the fastest route to anywhere - I always get there too, but not first. Same when I park my car. I never pay attention to where I leave it. On more than one occasion I have believed my car stolen, only to discover it parked right where I had forgotten it. Once, back in my Toyota Camry days, I got into another person's Camry that was parked right next to mine. Same color, same car. I had my key in the ignition and was putting on my seatbelt, all of the while slowly realizing... I don't remember the car being so clean. Where did that hand lotion come from? ... something was amiss. Oops. 

There are a lot of Subaru's in this town. In order to be able to pick mine out of a crowded Costco parking lot, I put a bright green bumper sticker on the back. Now, I can usually spot it as I walk aimlessly in the general direction of where I may have parked. Along the way I find myself muttering, "That's not my Subaru, that's not my Subaru, that's not my Subaru..."