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Unhappy Liz: Recalculate Your Relationship with Your Mother |
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Sage as GPS Counselor |
The sun is shining as I sit comfortably on the dashboard of Liz’s fancy, shmancy Prius. I lost weight, so I take up less room on the dash; I’m quite a looker, if I say so myself.
Liz, the driver, is anxious. She’s poking me as she tries to program her destination—fidgety fingers mean she drank too much coffee.
The first words out of her mouth--”Shit, shit, shit, I hate you, GPS!” I don’t take it personally; I hear it all of the time. When someone is having a problem programming their destination, they hate me. Go figua?
Liz’s fidgeting starts to annoy me; it’s time to intervene. “Maidala,” I say, “Take your time—a deep breath will help you focus; you could program me, and we’ll both be the better for it.”