Hopping on and off the Beltway in DC last week, I thanked my lucky stars I’d ditched my old GPS (which was reliable only about dying every time I took it out on the freeway at night) and replaced it with one that not only stayed awake but announced the exits by name and number.

The new one was flawless. It told me when to zig and zag. It told me how long it would take to arrive and where to pick up Chinese.

I couldn’t help but imagine how organized I’d be if I had robotic direction in the rest of my life.

“Check your calendar.” “Take out the recycling.” “Pay your Discover Card bill.”

No more missed appointments. No more overflowing bins. No more late fees.

And especially, no more walking into a room and thinking, “Why am I in here?” GPS would remember. “You came for your phone,” it would say.

I could probably even program it to announce when I went a little off course. Detours to the refrigerator, for example. “Recalculating… recalculating… recalculating….”

Maybe not such a good idea after all.