A Sense of Direction

I spent some time this weekend in Georgetown, partly because I wanted a weekend close to home after traveling for the holidays, but mostly because I wanted to check out the sales, which were surprisingly reasonable, even on the busy M Street.  Other shoppers flocked into the stores, and like me, congregated in the sale sections toward the back of the one-story establishments and on the second- and third-floors of the multistory ones.  Several stores including J.Crew and The Loft had an extra percentage off, and I literally had  a $10 sweater grabbed from under my hands at Zara.  My only purchases were some lip balm from Sephora and a coffee from Dean & Deluca, both which remind me of watching the show Felicty in high school.  Little did I know then that I would one day venture into the city to live. It’s somewhat ironic, because even when I still feel out of place in the city, I always get asked for directions while I’m walking on Wisconsin Avenue. Fortunately, even with a bad sense of direction, I manage to point the visitor toward the famous shops and restaurants or toward campus, but their maps are little help to me.  Whether printed or on a phone, the maps never seem to match what I see on the streets, and I always have to turn them in the direction I want to go.

 

 

 

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