Late Late Late

4 04 2007

I hate being late. 

I got up much much later than I usually do.  Almost an hour late. 

I went to bed early as I was tired, before I dozed off I asked Colin to bring my purse into the bedroom, as my Blackberry (with my alarm) was in the bag.  He didn’t do it. 

I should have just got up out of warm and secure cocoon, and got my own damn bag.

I hate rushing around.  My day is shot even before it begins!  I’m not looking forward to the rest of this day. 

I feel alot of anxiety and I feel very stressed.  I feel like I have that “restless leg syndrome”  – my legs won’t sit comfortably, and my muscles are twitching.   Days like this I get phantom heartburn, I don’t actually have heartburn but it feels like it. 

I have a routine.  A finally tuned routine, and I feel uneasy not being in that routine. Even my bathroom routine was shot to sh*t today.

Perhaps I’m a bit “OCD” – I doubt it though – I see nothing wrong with liking things done in order, and in routine.

Either way, I’m going to be grumpy today.  Be warned.




2 responses

4 04 2007

Oh, wow, I really hate being late, too. And my kids pretty much conspire to make it happen all the time.

4 04 2007

Colin likes to be the monkey wrench in the works too.

I sometimes wonder if he enjoys seeing my obvious discomfort at being late. . . . .

When we have important places to be, I often tell Colin we need to be there 30 mintues before we do, because I know we will be just rolling up to our destination 10 minutes after the time I give him. . . .he thinks he has made me late, and I know we are still 20 minutes early.

If I ever had kids, I don’t know how’d I’d cope with being late.

I’d be a drill sargent. I just know it.

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