Fuck It, I'm Late Anyways!

Nope. Not preggers late. Arriving at a place, event, friend's house or every goddam thing ever - after the specified time kinda late. Clarification complete, let's get to my story.

So I found this incredibly interesting article the other day about the psychological reasons behind why chronically late people (AKA - Me) are late all the time, and how they can fix it. By "found" I mean the Hubs ever so considerately decided to email the article to me for my reading pleasure. HINT HINT, big FAT hint. The Hubs doesn't do subtle. 

I will admit that I'm late a lot. Okay, more than a lot, a whole lot. Okay, most of the time. Okay, ALL THE FUCKING TIME. I admit that because when I typed "a lot" instead of "all the time" I could just hear my friend Highlander reprimanding me like a nagging harpie in my head - because she knows perfectly well how often I'm late. Yes, that's right, I admit it. Happy now?  So to appease the Hubs, Highlander, and the world - I read the stinking article. 

The article actually wasn't half bad though. The way I read it, the lateness actually isn't my fault; I'm just an over-achiever who is motivated and works well in a crisis. I am an over-achiever because I try and cram events, tasks, and a ridiculous amount of other crap into every second of my day - primarily when I have somewhere to be. I also tend to work well under pressure, and like to leave things to the last minute, or ninja-procrastinate just to keep my boredom in check. I am just that awesome. Yes I am, do not mock my self-deception. 

Since this article actually exists, and apparently a book was written about the subject as well, obviously chronic-lateness and the traumatization of clocks is not unique to me. There are others out there like me who struggle every day with their inability to beat the clock, and their constant disappointment of their early-friends and early-family. Maybe I should start a support group, but a support group with liquor, and no clocks. Or just clocks like this one: 

I NEED this clock to recover from my lateness. Except on MY clock the word "whatever" would be replaced with "Fuck it." I probably also need the book, and the soul-enlightening Yahoo! article. My whole world has changed now because I read it. Actually not, but I do really abhor being late. Being late sucks, especially when you are trying really really freaking hard to be on time. Being late so often that people are actually surprised when you show up on time, now THAT is not only an art form, but truly the suckiest of suckage for the late person. I swear I'm not late because I'm rude or trying to offend you, or because I can't tell time and like to shame my first grade teacher. Everything isn't about you. 

The moral of the story is - I'm always late. Everyone knows it, even me. I don't do it on purpose, and would like to fix it. Enter, Yahoo! article of redemption, or maybe a butler. Yes, I need a butler to get me to shit on time. I'll put that on my bucket list.