I’m a self confessed punctuality junkie. Whenever I get ready to go somewhere I have this over powering and inexplicable sense of urgency to get there exactly on time. Nothing gives me a better sense of adventure. Some go parasailing or skydiving. Hell, I look at a clock instead.
But in my 17 years of enlightened existence I’ve found that arriving on time or sometimes well before anyone has even showed up, can be downright awkward.
Arriving on time is really my forte. In fact, I should do it for a living. Unfortunately, arriving late isn’t. No matter how hard I try I just can’t manage to turn up late at any event. All my energy and intellectual potential gets invested in accomplishing a seemingly simple task such as reaching a little later than the time of arrival, yet somehow not getting abysmally delayed. It just doesn’t work out. I always always end up on time. It’s like some kind of divine intervention, which is obviously unasked for, obstructs me from fruitfully squandering my time.
Some call it admirable. I call it crazy.
