I Have A Good Excuse
I was late for work today.
But I have a really good excuse.
First of all, I went to a concert last night. On a weeknight. I stayed out very late. The wee hours. The concert didn’t get over until 11:15! That’s a full one hour and fifteen minutes past my bedtime. And I didn’t even count that it’s an EIGHT minute drive home. Let me repeat: On a weeknight.
Then, my husband had to get up early. His friend is trying to convince him to go partners in an antique business. So they went to the huge antique show to get the lay of the old stuff land, so to speak. I haven’t been discouraging in this possible endeavor. Hubby needs a hobby. And he loves to make deals. He was a very successful salesman due to his love of the deal. The issue is that he falls in love with shit. And then he can’t bear to part with it. He had found the perfect product in advertising – because he didn’t have to buy it first. And it’s hard to fall in love with advertising space. But antiques? I mean I like antiques. But I don’t want my house to start looking like the The Addams Family. Then again, he might be good at it.
So anyway, he had to get up at 5:00. This would not necessarily translate into me getting up early too. He can make coffee and toast quite well without me. So I could have slept a little late. However, the alarm beeps right over my head in the bedroom every time a door opens. And it beeped over and over and over again. I’m not sure why he went in and out so many times. Four years ago I would have said he was filling up the car with snacks. After all, it’s more than an hour’s drive. Snacks would be called for. But now that we are both eating healthy nutritious stuff, snacks are water and bananas. That wouldn’t take a whole lot of trips to the car – even he takes forty bananas.
But regardless, beep, beep… going out… beep beep…coming in. Beep beep… going out… beep beep…coming in. Beep, beep… well, you get the picture. So I got up. “You’re up?” he said. “You shoulda slept in.”
So I’m up. Early. I didn’t take long in the shower, because I didn’t have to wash my hair. It’s Zumba day, and I’m not going to waste clean hair on a day that ends with a big sweat-event. Zumba day means updo. Updo is easy with dirty hair. It mostly just sticks to itself. And the ends that pop out are charmingly casual.
I ironed. I must wear freshly ironed clothes, even when it’s jeans. I just must. The ironing board is set up permanently in my home. College almost killed me, because I had no space in my dorm room for an ironing board. It’s a miracle I graduated. I dressed in my freshly ironed clothes. I didn’t change more than twice. That saved time.
I did all my makeup. ‘All’ means ‘a lot’. But I am very skilled. I could compete in Olympic makeup application. I would win. I was still really early.
My husband left for his big adventure. This saved me an enormous amount of time at breakfast, because I didn’t have to talk to him. I opened my book. In retrospect, this may have been a minor mistake. However, I had already saved so much time what with getting up so early and not shampooing and not changing my clothes three times and not speaking to my husband — well, four chapters fit into my schedule quite nicely. The fifth made it a little tight.
But I was okay. I did the dishes and made the bed and saved an enormous amount of time by wearing plain hoop earrings and my wedding rings. Not having to choose a necklace easily offset that fifth chapter.
Yogurt and a banana in my bag… Double-checked that the coffeemaker was off. And the iron. Perfectly on time.
Then the old cat threw up. Not a problem. Hubby can “find” it when he gets home. There is no way to date-stamp cat puke. It most certainly could have happened right after I left.
I was only 1 minute behind schedule. But I knew I could make it. I have no traffic lights and only two stop signs between my house and the office. Both stop signs are at right hand turns. There’s hardly ever any traffic. I don’t really have to come to a full stop.
And then. Those few seconds late caused me to be behind the school bus that I am usually in front of.
I ended up six minutes late for work.
“Sorry, I’m late,” I said to the boss as she spotted me running in. “Why does every damn kid have to kiss his mother?”