Ostomy Memories Finds East

SOMETIMES, IN THE SUBURBS, it is easy to lose track of which direction is which.  In a residential area, you are surrounded by houses.  There is no horizon upon which to set your sights or to act as harbinger of the new day as the sun peeks above its line.  In my neighborhood, sunrise occurs when the sun begins to make its appearance over the roof of the guy across the street from me.  The lizards in my courtyard keep the same schedule, waiting until there’s warmth upon the faux wrought iron rail before they venture forth in search of breakfast.  Although I do know from which direction to expect the sun to rise, I may easily lose my sense of compass points as I drive the often curvy roads of the city.  There’s a gizmo in my car that detects direction but, being one of those crude folks who remembers crank windows, clutches, and carburetors, I tend to forget it’s there.  Of course, as Lewis Carroll wrote in ‘Alice in Wonderland’:  “If you don’t know where you want to go, then it doesn’t matter which path you take.”

Hello HenryM.
My own experience is that he diminishing lack of directionality becomes much more acute as we move towards old age!
Best wishes
Bill

What are you saying here, Bill?  That old people don't know which end is up?  I guess it's a good thing that I gave up my late life avocation as a trapeze artist.  

I was thinking more of horizontal directionality rather than vertical!