A big family, a reading addiction, and the occasional celebrity scandal are the ingredients of life that create one woman's opinion on just about everything.

Friday, September 12, 2008

The Queen of 8:03



A friend of mine wrote in my high school year book, "Rosie will be late to her own funeral". Bastard. You totally knew a guy wrote that didn't you? Not very nice is it? I mean he only knew me for three years. How could he possibly judge whether or not I would be late to anything after high school? So I was late to a couple of Sr. Class Council meetings. Big deal. Everyone knows high school is NOT real life... Don't they?

Flash ahead over many, many years. Kids, jobs, church, funerals, baby showers and weddings. Some years I've done better than others. Trust me when I tell you that I have a long history and genetics against me, but I've worked darn hard to be on time to stuff and for stuff.

But...

Sometimes there's construction on the freeway (right SL?) or a diaper has to be changed before you leave the house, or you have ants in your microwave.

I mean I might have had to sneak into church during the processional song, but I was always in my pew before the priest reached the altar. There may have been a time or two that as a front door was closing I might have been dodging traffic to cross a street to get to a shower (baby or bridal) on time.

Red lights. The babysitter is late. Whatever. It's life. Let me introduce myself. My name is Rosie. I'm the poster girl for STUFF HAPPENS.

Last year I was never late to work. Shmoo went to high school very nearby and his school started a half an hour before I was scheduled to start.
Consequently, I was never late. I was...EARLY.

Anyway, our area has grown considerably (again!) in the past year. A little over a year ago it took me 17 minutes to get to Shmoo's school and then a couple of minutes to work. Right about the time Shmoo graduated the drive was taking 20 minutes.

Now, by all that's holy, if I want to be to work on time I have to leave my house by 7:30!
I've been pushing the 8 AM start time and cutting it closer and closer. I've become the Queen of 8:03. I consistently arrive at work at 8:03 every morning. You realize that if I planned to do this it would be impossible.

It's just not right. Work is 11 miles away. E-L-E-V-E-N. 11 miles. It's deranged that it takes 30 minutes to drive across our little valley. It's not like I live in Manhattan or anything. Are you sensing a little resentment here?

Fortunately my boss is tolerant and finds my morning rants on my commute amusing. ::Side note: It's no longer a drive to work. A drive to work is 15 minutes. Once you hit a half hour it's a commute! End Side Note::

What I don't understand is why on the mornings that I really, really, really try to be on time (by leaving my home 30 freaking minutes before I'm due at work) something always happens. Detour. Road construction. Traffic accident. Something. What. Is. Up. With. That.


Do not believe this picture. That woman has to drive for 30 minutes to go 11 miles. She's not not really that happy. She's actually nuts. Crazy. Maniacal. Be careful. She's out there.

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10 Comments:

Blogger lisabea said...

Rosie~This picture reminds me of that story you told me about the traffic camera and the photo of you driving...that time....omg. I cracked up.

On time? Pfft. Punctuality is for beginners.I used to ALWAYS be early. Never ever ever ever late. And then I started writing.....

5:30 AM PDT  
Blogger Dev said...

I am one of those sick individuals who runs early for everything. People can plan on it.

6:46 AM PDT  
Blogger Rosie said...

Lb, that picture is so me in said infamous photo if the chickie was wearing sunglasses. Other than that, yeah, me oblivious and Shmoo turning to look at me wondering BUT NOT SAYING ANYTHING about why I ran a red light.

Dev, its people like you who give people like me a bad name. Over achievers the lot of you.

7:01 AM PDT  
Blogger nath said...

I always cut it close. i try and try, but most of the time, I'll be a few minutes late. But hey, I blame it on genes... for vietnamese, time is elastic (like a rubberband) LOL :)

You know Rosie, you're actually quite lucky that it takes you 20 to 30 minutes... I also have a distance of 11 miles and I'm just sooo happy when I make it at 30 minutes (I have a bridge to cross)... traffic is killing.

by the way, that's my new commute... which means since I changed job, I cut my commute time by half!!!

7:11 AM PDT  
Blogger Holly said...

In my life, time management doesn't exist. Or if it does, it was meant to be ignored.

That's one of the many reasons I love you and like spending time with you. I never have to worry about running a bit late.

*g*

8:14 AM PDT  
Blogger MaryMary said...

You're replying to comments at 7:01AM...I'm sure you're all ready and just chillin' before you have to leave...Not! Sistah, we don't function on early. It's late or never. Although, having to go to all of these military functions, I've learned to be punctual. There's nothing quite as embarassing as showing up after the "official party".

9:14 AM PDT  
Blogger Rosie said...

Nath, elastic time? Where do I sign up?

Holly, I have much love for you to...it's good to know there's a kindred spirit out there.

Mary, you outted me on my own blog! Yes it was 7:01. I was showered and my bed was made. My bad? I did have to finish make up and hair. I got to work at...8:03! So it was obviously the time I took to that reply that made me late.

12:33 PM PDT  
Blogger Rosie said...

Nath, elastic time? Where do I sign up?

Holly, I have much love for you to...it's good to know there's a kindred spirit out there.

Mary, you outted me on my own blog! Yes it was 7:01. I was showered and my bed was made. My bad? I did have to finish make up and hair. I got to work at...8:03! So it was obviously the time I took to that reply that made me late.

12:33 PM PDT  
Blogger Becky said...

Oh, I hear ya. Seeing as I take that same 'commute' across the valley...I understand exactly what you're talking about. It's a BEAR!

I used to be the one ready first and chomping at the bit to get everyone out the door...until Judah was born.

Nothing ticks me off worse than to be ready at the same time, but Jeff hustles the kids out the door to load the car, and I'm left to turn off the A.C., turn off lights and bathroom fans left on, and finally get out the door only to have to dig through my purse to find my keys to be able to lock the darn door.

We're always a couple of minutes late to things now...and it's not MY fault, lol!

12:19 PM PDT  
Blogger Rosie said...

Becky, the older I get the more I understand "misery loves company"... I do so appreciate that you know and understand from what I speak...erm...write. ; )

9:48 PM PDT  

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