Before we begin, I need to explain that I am typing this on my phone at a Starbucks in the outer reaches of Queens way too early for a Sunday morning. Subsequently, typos should be blamed on exhaustion, my clumsy fingers, and Queens itself (just because).
I am due to meet friends at 10:30, yet I've been here since 9:30. Why was I an hour early? Because I hate being late. Running late, holding up plans, greatly upsets me. As a kid I had the fear of God put into me about being late. I was told its rude (which is true) and felt like being late meant you had screwed up the plans (maybe) and everyone would be upset with you. The solution of course was to be early! But for some reason my family doesn't seem to deal in regular early, like 5-10 minutes ahead of schedule....we always seem to be 40+minutes ahead of the game. Dad used to drop me at school about 45 minutes before other students began to show up. And frankly it sucked. And I kind of hate that it's become so deeply embedded in my psyche that if I think I might be late, I get super anxious and upset. Blech. I need de-programming. Punctual is fine, but stupidly early is not. Because the early bird does NOT really get "the worm." The early bird gets "a" worm but so does the bird who had the good sense to chill out and sleep in a bit.
Surprisingly, this took longer to type than usual (oh fingers, y u so slow?) and I can't properly upload a funny photo, so I shall simply bid you adieu and wish you a Happy Sunday. X
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