This post is late. I dislike being late. This does not mean, however, that I am never late. In fact, I am often late. In my vast experience with habitually tardy folks, people are late for one of three reasons:
- They move unbelievably slowly. Members of my family suffer from this affliction. I once watched a member of my family take close to an hour to make breakfast. This included from the time she announced that she was making breakfast. Then, deciding what to make. Next taking custom orders. Finally chopping and cooking at the kind of glacial pace that makes you wonder if you are on some kind of prank show. These slow movers rarely account for their snail-like pace to properly plan for how long it will take to get ready. They wrongly think it will take 60 minutes when it takes 2 hours.
- They attempt to do too much. My coworkers often demonstrate this behavior. They think to themselves, “Hey, I have 8 minutes before my next meeting. Let me answer three emails and make one phone call before I am out of pocket for an hour.” This, of course, is a horrible idea. I sometimes do this myself. I will quickly take out the trash on my way to meet someone and then realize that trash bag has a hole, which causes a mess that needs to be mopped.
- This leads me to the final (and my most typical reason for lateness): They don’t account for mishaps. I typically give myself 20 -30 minutes to get everywhere. This is terrible! I have a coworker with the odd ability to get anywhere in the suggested time. If Google Maps says, 18 minutes. Well, she is there in 17 minutes. However, even if by some miracle I arrive at my destination in the allotted 20 minutes, then I cannot find parking.
I once made a new year’s resolution to be on time for every event and occasion. What a lonely, hungry year that was. With my new found timeliness, no one arrived on time. Once, I was the first person to arrive at a birthday at Chuck E Cheese. Now look, I don’t have kids and I was planning to make an appearance to be nice. There is no reason for me to be at Chuck E Cheese alone. Slowly, but surely, my timeliness slipped away.
Other than the lateness of this post, Memorial Day weekend was great. Drinks and random conversation with strangers on Friday. I went to a friend of a friend’s annual Memorial Day block party on Saturday. I adore cookouts. This is amazing because I hate the outdoors and view any reason for being outside (save a lovely concert) as a punishment. I do not hike, or canoe, or experience nature. Cookouts are different. Maybe it was my upbringing. Every Labor Day my grandfather would have a huge party with a ton of food, an old fashioned jukebox and lots of happy people. I was shocked when I discovered that two of my good friends do not like cookouts. I spend most of my summer looking for cookouts. Back in Michigan, this is easy. I kinda just walk around the neighborhood, hold a few chats and….barbecue in my belly. One year, I went to three cookouts on Memorial Day alone! I will admit I was invited to three cookouts on that Saturday including the strangers I met on Friday.
According to a nice Belgian gentleman I met at a cookout several years ago, this was a uniquely American experience (to him). I don’t have much experience with personal socializing outside of America, but that sounds interesting. Hamburgers and hot dogs (which are served too frequently at DC area cookouts in my opinion) really symbolize the core of American identity. So maybe cookouts are my form of patriotism.
Sunday, I was officially ill. I decided to go to prom anyway – the 80’s theme prom by Axel F. The outfits were awesome. I did not dress up. I mostly stood in a corner and watched the action unfold. This was definitely out of character, but I everyone else seemed to be having a ball. After that, the actual holiday was uneventful. I dragged myself on errands. Then back to my couch.