Me: "Are we in Medford?"
dicotomygrrl: "I think so. Yeah, we are."
Me: "We're heading toward Davis Square."
Rewind a few days... skintalker has just parked in Harvard Square. I flawlessly lead him and the kids to the tea-and-mochi-ice-cream-place I've visited only once before, a year ago - and had then approached from a completely different direction.
I don't get lost in Boston.
Now, this may seem like no big deal to you. But I get lost going to places in Atlanta where I've been dozens of times. I've lived in Atlanta five years, and I still can't tell you what direction anything's in. Alpharetta? Marietta? No freakin' clue. All I know is that the airport is south.
In Boston? My brain has memorized not only the red line, but how the suburbs spread out around and beyond it. Spin me around like I'm about to smack a pinata, and I can still point accurately in the direction of downtown, of Davis or Harvard Squares, of Alewife station and the Common. And navigate within same.
This is the first place that's been like that for me since Vegas.
Poor dicotomygrrl got an earful after that, excited little 'song pointing out how to get to the houses/apartments of at least three different people. "I know where I am!"