With a sneer Slightly-British Daughter said (quietly): "Look down!"
She's unbelievably observant - and adds sparkle to our outings by pointing out dumbassery that, if left to my own devices (i.e., naval gazing), I'd completely miss.
There's some genetic involved, I think. Other family members manifest it in their ability to pick 4-leaf clovers out of huge-ass patches of the 3-leafed variety. Given a choice, I'd wish for the ability to pick dumbassery examples from the world-at-large over 4-leaf clover picking - but it turns out I have neither ability.
So, because I knew it would be worth it, when Slightly-Brit said: "Look down!", I did!
Macadam - big deal. "Down!", she repeated - with a hint of frustration (I think she might have growled a little right then). I looked some more, but I had no idea what was so blinking fascinating.
We were walking through the Doylestown Library/Michener Museum parking lot when Slightly-Brit made the "Look down!" statement. We kept walking, I kept looking. I got tired of looking (my neck was getting sore from frequent gyrations) - and frustrated with myself (and with SBD, truth be told) because I could not find the source of her derision.
I asked for enlightenment: "WHAT?"
She said I make things way more difficult than they need to be.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I say: 'look down' and, when I look over at you, you're staring off into the horizon."
I had been staring off into the horizon. But only after I'd looked down at the macadam - and down the hill behind us (hence the gyrations) and down the road!
The off-into-the-horizon staring was my last resort. I figured maybe SBD meant for me to look South - there's some logic in saying "down" when you mean "toward the South" (or so it seemed at the time).
I was staring off into the horizon toward what I assumed was due-South. Not that I have any directional abilities - but it was my best guess as to where South was at the moment. I didn't even bother to explain this to Slightly-Brit, who has an unerring inner directional apparatus (and would probably have told me that I was looking nowhere near South).
About a half-mile past the supposedly interesting sight (half-mile meaning possibly 2 ft. - or 2 miles - or 2 steps; my directional, distance-measuring and clover-picking skills are all below average) I (mildly, because I'm so demure you know) demanded to be shown what was so damn amusing.
It wasn't worth it!
A car in the parking lot had a decorative, front license plate that aimed at being cute, but missed by a mile and was more "gag me with a spoon".
I've got a bead on the "down" thing though. Next time I hear: "Look down!" I'll check around my calves first.
And now I'm beginning to notice that I shine with this ability to make things more confusing than they really are - and I'm wondering if it's a Square-Peg thing.
Anyone out there have this same complication gene??