Lost

We are spending a few days in Moab with Mikayla and Guy, Eugene and Sharae, all their children, and Grandma Sue.  Should be a good time.  I had a goal to leave Provo at 6:00 so we would arrive by 9:00pm, just right to get the kids in bed at a reasonably decent hour.  I had checked out some books on CD and we stuck one in right away as we got onto the freeway.  After about 45 minutes, I turned to Sue sitting in the seat next to me and said, "We get off at Scipio, don't we?"

"I don't know," she replied.  "I've always gone up Spanish Fork Canyon and through Price when I've gone to Moab."

"Why didn't you say something?!" I asked.  "Where are we?"  I knew where we were.  We were nearly to Scipio, an hour past the Spanish Fork turn off to head to Price and then to Moab.  An hour! 

Sue said, "I thought you knew a different route and must be taking it." 

Groan

We had to recalibrate where we were to where we needed to be, and discovered that Scipio to Moab takes three hours.  That's right.  Three hours.  Provo to Moab is three hours, and we had just driven a whole hour for nothing.  No progress.  No moving in the correct direction.  Just an hour in the car driving. 

Groan followed by sigh followed by me singing, "I am not an idiot all of the time.  I am just an idiot once in a while."

We didn't get to Moab until 10:00pm, Mikayla's kids were still up waiting for our arrival, and no one was in bed early at all.  We'll all be crabby in the morning.