|Late, late, late, late...
||[Sep. 10th, 2008|09:31 am]
Sestree's post got me thinking. I admire you people who are regularly on time. Who show up at just the right moment, that five to fifteen minute before the "start" time, looking like you've had just enough time to put away your things, get your coffe, straighten up the pens and pencils....|
No. Not really. Actually, I'm jealous. Oooh, there's no hater like a jealous one!
I cling to the moral superiority of not WANTING to be late. Not finding it acceptable. It's a tiny shred, but all I've got to hang on to. I know a lot of people who are late all the time and don't really seem bothered by it. They're easy with their lateness. Some have the grace to seem abashed, apologetic even, but clearly have given up even trying. I sort of envy you people, too.
The people who are perennially late and take the "hey, that's the way I am, deal with it" and laugh it off.....it's not funny. I can sympathize with not being able to get someplace on time, really I can. But please, mind the social contract and have the good graces to be apologetic that you wasted my time or kept me waiting.
(Those of you who are now thinking, omg, is she talking about ME? That time I was late...Dude. Chill. Don't be so insecure. If I was, you'd know already, because heaven knows, I'm not shy about immediate feedback. And I'm totally not talking about social events at my house. Hell, I COUNT on you being late, because well, I'm running late, so when you show up on time....doublefluster! That's why, if y'all ever compare notes with other people showing up at a party, you may find that you all have a different impression as to when the party's starting...)
I try to be on time. I do. I hate being late and I hate even more to arrive late and unglued because I'm late. Which is why I sometimes show up a half an hour early...because I had to lie outrageously to myself about when I needed to be there.
I just seem to carry a circle of personal chaos around with me. I underestimate how long it's going to take me to do anything. Utter denial that coming home, changing, walking the dogs, feeding them, feeding the cats, doing litterboxes, picking up the pee pads, starting them in the washer, walking the dogs again and getting my butt out the door for another social event is going to take at least an hour. And it's ludicrous to tell people that I can be anywhere by 7pm. Ludicrous. Please, if I tell you that I will meet you at 7pm on a work day, just laugh at me. Help me stop the madness.
Even when I try to make sure everything possible is done ahead of time...all I'm doing is inviting an extra dose of chaos....traffic, neighbors who need to talk to me, loose dogs in the neighborhood, dropping the entire box of dog biscuits on the floor, falling down the stairs...honestly, it's enough to keep me from wanting to prepare ahead of time. The normal level of chaos usually results in fewer bandaids and paper towels.
Later, more stressed out, more embarrassed. It's even worse when someone else is waiting on me. More stress. The urge to scream "well, you could help!" The inability to articulate how exactly the person COULD help because I'm so stressed out. The tapping into the martyr vein of "Fine, I'll just do it all myself" which is so self-destructive, but is soothing and comfy like an old pair of sweatpants.
No wonder I can't get anywhere on time....