And then, unwisely I followed the directions of my GPS to drive through Ithaca.
Anyone who lives in Hector knows that driving through Ithaca (on Rt. 79) early in the morning is flirting with madness.
Plus a dump truck belching blue and black smoke managed to block my path for most of the hills.
But except for another GPS induced diversion, I landed safely in Roscoe, only an hour late.
The details of our lunch meeting are for another time. But I was not paying attention to detail when I left the Roscoe Bistro (not the iconic Roscoe Diner, just up the street). That lack of attention became sickningly apparent when I went to a service station to gas up and discovered I had left my backpack at the Bistro.
The backpack - the one with the iPad on which I am drafting this, my checkbook, calendars and assorted electronic devices and cables.
Santa Crappo, redux.
That part of this saga had a happy ending. I raced back (it was only five minutes away) and my backpack was sitting on the floor, right where I left it, patiently waiting.
Now at my sister's on Long Island, I'm waiting for the NYC traffic to clear so I can head west across the city, through New Jersey and probably land somewhere in Pennsylvania for the night.
And for today's trip, the backpack will ride on the seat right next me.