Mrs. G. had what was definitely could be construed as her first mental wobble. She discovered ten minutes before she thought she was going to arrive in Atlanta (and after 10 hours in the car) that the GPS (her name is Betty and her whore ass is temporarily in the doghouse) had not mentioned a turn off and, consequently, Mrs. G. had overshot Atlanta by FIVE HOURS. As luck would have it, she was only late to the party being thrown for her by five hours. In fact, she was only fifty miles outside of Tallahassee, Florida. What a lark...if she had been driving to Tallahassee, Florida. Poor Mrs. G's daughter was the only Gattuccio who answered the phone, and she stoically bore witness to Mrs. G's hysteria laced with keening and the word shit. Thanks, Honey.
Anyway, she played this song over and over and it helped.