There is something wrong with me.
I'm plagued with a disease.
Don't worry though, I've been living with it all my life.
I'm not sure what the technical medical terminology is, but I call it Chronic Lateness.
|Image from coolcoozies.co.uk|
I hate it... I try to change it.... yet I can't shake it.
When I am late (which is 90% of the time), not only do I tend to piss off people, but I also irritate myself which causes me to sweat profusely. To add to the problem, I almost always get stuck behind about four different drivers going under the mothereffing speed limit. Seriously, usually four different vehicles all driving like they are part of a parade or a funeral procession. And I swear, their one and only goal is to BE IN FRONT OF ME, because often they are the same dillwad driving 55 mph through the roundabout so that I cannot enter, yet they go 30 mph in the 50 mph zone. And no I don't yell at them, nor do I flip them off because I am a motherfucking lady, yo. Plus I have small children in the car so I am normally too busy changing the radio station to a song that is not about some one's ass and do not have time to think up my own substitute words for "OMFG, stop drooling on yourself, get yer head out of yer ass and FUCKING DRIVE" . And there is that last time that I flew the bird at a sorry excuse for a licensed driver, then seconds later I realized that the person I directed it at was super duper old and looked like driving was making them nervous and I felt like a disrespectful asshat, because we should always respect our elders no matter how horribly they drive. Unless they are only a tiny bit older, like Pauly Shore or something, because that shit is fair game.
|Image from wired.com|
Just smile and wave. She can't see you anyway.
Because I am like Pollyanna- the perpetual optimist- I like to think that the stress being Chronically Late raises my metabolism and helps me burn calories, but I'm pretty sure all it does is raise my blood pressure and leave pit stains on my shirts.
I honestly don't know the root of this Chronic Lateness. Have I not figured out the art of time management yet? Like, did I forget how long it takes me to get my "going into public" hair and face on? Or maybe I just can't tell time (I struggle with that whole Left and Right business and telling time is way more complicated than that...)? Or maybe I just drag my feet because I don't like to leave my house for I am a truly a hermit who is merely in disguise as an "outgoing people person"? Maybe, just maybe on the inside I am a 567 pound woman who merely wants to be left alone to eat cheese puffs, talk to her cats and watch "her shows".
Oddly enough, with all the Chronic Lateness in my life, I am almost ALWAYS early to book club- we have wine there.... and converse freely in a kid-free zone.
Hmmmmm..... if you have any suggestions on combating this Medical Catastrophe that torments me, please let me know. And don't tell me to get off of facebook, I've had this problem long before the existence of facebook. I've been afflicted with this "disease" since the existence of PacMan, The Loveboat and John Hughes films.
Oh Shit! Look at the time- Gotta go!
------->But before I do, on an unrelated subject:
Why does Thing 1 turn EVERYTHING that he plays with into a gun?
Yesterday he found a blue polka dotted ribbon and turned it into an automatic weapon.
I think he destroyed an entire city with it.
When did this turn into a weapon of mass destruction?