Before anyone berates me in the comment section, for those of you who don’t know, I am chronically late. The first step is admitting you have a problem, right? I find it’s usually about 15 minutes, but sometimes despite best intent, I stretch it out a bit longer. There are those who think my showing up late is disrespectful of their time. And while I completely understand that, it is not my intent in any way shape or form.
It all started way back, such a long long way back …
My entire family is late. As Jeremy’s childhood friend, we seem to operate on our own time & space continuum. Christmas morning starts at 11 am, dinners scheduled for 7 start at 9, and any time it’s really important, tell us to be there at LEAST a half an hour before you actually want us there.
Once I walked home from soccer practice as a young child (4 miles) only to find my mom hadn’t left to pick me up yet.
So, I consider my 15 minutes preferable to both my brother’s 45 minutes (my sister-in-law’s ring tone for him is “love isn’t always on time” – brilliant) and my mother’s solid hour.
My most horrendous offenses to date that I remember:
I was close to two hours late for a friend’s Christmas Dinner without a good reason. Well, it was good for me, but they weren’t as understanding.
I once told Jeremy I was on my way to meet him as I was stepping into the shower which resulted in me meeting him at 7:28 for a 7:30 movie that was 30 minutes away.
I recently orchestrated a meet up with friends at 7 and while they were all there at 7, I was just getting off my bike at seven and didn’t make the dinner until a little after 8. Thankfully, they had all ordered a few drinks.
I have spent a large amount of time this summer driving 85 MPH + for over three hours in an all out effort to make the last boat of the day to my destination … because I left home late.
Thankfully cleanliness, not timeliness, is next to Godliness because at least I have some hope in that area.
I just asked my best childhood friend if she had any memories of my lateness and she said in an incredibly sexy voice (she’s single, gentlemen) ….
“You are always late. I factor in an extra 45 minutes, no joke, when you are meeting me and honestly it works out pretty well. You have the best intentions of anyone I know and you genuinely want to be on time and make plans but it’s how it goes.”
About two weeks ago, I decided, after a day of being ten minutes late for everything (and it was a heavily scheduled day, so it was wearing me down) that I was going to be on time. And, surprisingly enough, I did it. I was uncomfortable at first. I didn’t know what to do with all the time I found I had, and I was really unaccustomed to not running around like mad and constantly apologizing for keeping people waiting. But it was nice. In comparison to my regular state of being, I felt like I had just stepped out of a spa.
I could get used to it. Maybe. But I’ve got to work in room for the spontaneity quotient, so don’t count on me to be on time ALL the time.