State of confusion

When someone asks me where I live, I can say "Ohio!" quickly enough. I don't have to stop and think about it. But there are some other situations in which I can't quite seem to place myself.

For example: when I order something on line, and I get to the part where you type in your address, I'm thrown by those drop-down menus where you select your state. What is it about that alphabetical list of states? For a fraction of a second, I just don't know. Which state am I in? Who can tell? If I'm just a little distracted, perhaps thinking about the Sale I just took advantage of or the free shipping, I can actually scroll down the list of states, waiting for one to look familiar, before I catch myself. It's Ohio, goofball. Go to the Os.

I would like to report this as a new development, just in the month since I've moved to Ohio, because that seems excusable enough. But honesty compels me to tell you that I always do this. I always have that split second "huh!" when I confront that menu, whether I'm in Ohio or Virginia. Or Washington state. Or Hawaii. Or Alabama. Alabama was nice because that state was helpfully first on the list. (There are also the two foreign countries I've lived in, but that's another story.)

I have another example of this confusion that dates back to my early memories of television. My dad used to watch a national news program, and it included a weather report with a map of the United States. The viewer is supposed to locate herself on that map, and then have a general idea of tomorrow's temperatures. This turned out to be challenging. If someone had said, point to California/Illinois/Ohio/Utah or whichever state I was currently living in, I could have done so quickly. But there was something about the passive task of self-identifying my location that made my head spin, and frankly, still does. I still look at a map of the United States and go uh, ur, oh yeah, here.

I imagine most people turn their heads instinctively toward their home soil.