I run late for everything*. Work, class, appointments, plans with friends and family … you name it and I’m the chick who’s arriving anywhere from 10 to 60 minutes behind schedule, depending on which of the aforementioned functions is on my agenda. Sure, we can call it “fashionably late,” IF your definition of “fashionable” consists of wet hair and the slight disheveled appearance of someone who haphazardly dug through piles of wrinkled clothing in search of the right tank top.
My “late” habit is an issue I have unfortunately been acutely aware of for far too many years and yet ridiculously unable to improve upon despite repeated attempts. I could bore you with a laundry list of ways I’ve tried to correct the problem — a list I have typed and deleted three times now. Suffice it to say, nothing has worked or this would not be today’s “topic of choice.”
…So why is this important? It’s not. It’s irrelevant. But, on occasion, a little insight into yours truly beyond the surface babble is sometimes interesting. Do you not find it hilarious that my boyfriend has lied to me on multiple occasions about what time we are supposed to arrive at our destination in the hopes that we’ll actually arrive on time? Or that the clock in my car is purposefully set a few minutes fast? Or that I have a one-hour alarm set on my phone for every calendar event I’ve programmed in (and I use that calendar A LOT)?
Yet somehow, always late.
And after 26 years of repeated attempts to change it, I’ve succumbed to the reality that it’s simply part of who I am. My dad holds a similar reputation among his family and I recall at least a few occasions where my mother ran behind schedule — and she’s famous for wrong clocks! — so perhaps the combination of the two somehow filtered into my disastrously delayed self.
Whatever the reason, don’t invite me anywhere and expect an early arrival because it’s just not happening … no way, no how. This is your warning. And now I better post this damn this because NaBloPoMo Day #2 ended nearly 12 hours ago. Late yet again. Shocker.
* Including this specific blog posting. However, as I sped toward the midnight deadline of Day #2, my internet cut out and by 12:30 a.m., I called it quits and decided to save it for the a.m. Oh well.
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I hate being late. I hate it to the point that I stress out when I know I need to be somewhere. I worry for no damn reason the entire way there.
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Mindy Reply:
November 4th, 2011 at 2:34 am
@Jenn, Sooooo many people are that way and it amazes me because I’m the exact opposite. If we ever get together, you’ll have to lie to me about what time to meet up!
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I have the very opposite problem – it’s like I have a natural predisposition for always showing up early. FOR EVERYTHING.
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Mindy Reply:
November 4th, 2011 at 2:35 am
@thatShortChick, I always feel bad when I keep people like you waiting… That’s the downfall of being late all the time — making others wait who are early.
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For hundreds of thousands of years the world worked just fine without clocks…. original back to nature hippies represent!
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