How "on time" can suck

I'm married to Mr. Punctual. In fact, there is a long standing story of how on our first date, he was literally at my door when I was stepping out of the shower. He claims he was driving around my neighborhood for 45 minutes before ringing my doorbell a full 15 minutes early. In my defense, I'm not normally a running late kind of girl. However, I had just gotten through a 1 year relationship with a guy who ALWAYS late, by at least 20 minutes -- so at that point in my life, habit had said I had 35 full minutes before I would be answering the door. But alas, no -- drippy and not quite dressed, my future husband got to joy of entertaining my cat while I rushed to do girlie things like dry off.

Anyway, that long history to explain that my husband actually believes in the phrase, "Early is 'On Time'; On time is 'Late'; and Late is unacceptable." So, we had to go to a meeting this morning, as a couple, together, in the SAME car. URGH. Not only did this mean leaving my house at an hour I hesitate to mention to take Duke to school. It meant I was forced to drink my required morning coffee in the car while listening to Prince's required BBC. URGH. Then we drive --- SOUTH -- towards the CITY -- in rush hour. Hello? Who thought a breakfast meeting anywhere around here was a good plan? But we left plenty of time to get there. We left so much time in fact that my dear, sweet, always early person had us arrive at the location a full hour before the meeting began. A full hour. So, not only are we the only dorks in the world who can't judge how long it takes to drive 18 miles, we are the only dorks in the room. No problem, there was breakfast. BONUS, first dibs on the good stuff.

So, while this was cruel and unusual punishment for me, I have a friend who was kind enough to send me an e-mail with subject line: "getting here on time stinks!" To summarize, she left for work at 7:40am and arrived at her destination on time. Why it stinks in her world is that when it seemed like it should be 9am, it was only 8:30am. To this I say, poor baby. I'm so sorry. :) Afterall, I was sitting in the car wondering how to waste time before an reasonable person might show up at 7:40am. No, I'm not bitter or anything.

Of course on most days, she hates me since I commute all of 20 feet in my fuzzy slippers and bathrobe to my office. I claim there is lots of traffic, what with the back-up of dust bunnies on the stairs and the horrible kitty cat roll over in the sunbeam. I don't think she's buying that I have a tough life -- maybe if I didn't knit in the middle of the day?