Because I have terrible sense of direction, I always prepare whenever I have to drive somewhere. This week, Dave and I are going to some adreline-weekend-4x4 event that requires you to drive off-road and hike places. (I’ll be spending the day in the beer tent. Thank you for asking.)
I printed a map at work and gave him the directions. He glanced it at vaguely. “Thanks.”
“I know exactly where it is.”
“Have you been there before?”
“No, but I’ve already committed the map to memory.”
“You didn’t even look at it!”
“Don’t need to.”
(Pause) “Did the government implant a chip in your brain when you were in the military?”
“Are you sure you don’t remember a time when you maybe woke up in a lab with bandages wrapped around your head and no recollection of where you’ve been the day before?”
“OK, but just THINK about it…”
NOTE: I’m always messing crumbs around the house and yet when I get home they are GONE. The only logical explanation is that SuperDave is in fact part homing-pigeon, part-man.
NOTE: Or maybe someone sweeps.
NOTE: Paranoia isn’t so bad. At least I’m PRETTY sure I have all of my own brain. Of course, if someone erased your memory, you wouldn’t remember. So we have every REASON to be paranoid.