I’m chronically early. I grew up in a house with a mother who believed if you were not 15 minutes early, you were late. I have carried this philosophy throughout my life.
Usually, it is not a problem. My husband is very accommodating when it comes to my anxiety around time. He knows I will not go into a movie if the previews have already started. This is a fact. I need to be in my seat, eating popcorn, at least 10 minutes before the previews. I have always been this way.
Rarely is being early a problem—you can always wait in the car. However, being late is rude and inconsiderate. It also leaves a terrible impression—or at least it does for me. You want me to judge all up on you? Show up to a meeting 20 minutes late.
Just as my mother passed her time anxiety on to me, I have passed it on to my daughter. She is almost always early and has zero patience for late people. I feel a little bad about that, but I still think we are right. Deadlines and appointments are set for a reason. Dammit.
I’m one of three sisters. As the oldest, I’m always early. The middle sister is always right on time and the youngest sister is always late AF. We were all raised by the same woman. I’m not sure what this says about nature versus nurture.
Speaking of my mom, I love going places with her. I know when I slide in to pick her up 15 minutes early, she is going to be standing at the front door with her purse on her shoulder, ready to go. This is how we roll. Again, I love this woman. She is a delight.
As a sufferer of general anxiety disorder, my obsession with punctuality is problematic. It stresses me the fuck out. Lord only knows how many Xanax I have popped while stuck in traffic over the years.
Just last week I called a doctor’s office to tell them I was going to be a little late for my appointment because I was stuck in road construction. My appointment was at 11 a.m. I arrived at 10:59. I probably could have done without making that call. Alas, I was freaking out and my GPS said I would arrive at 11:05 at one point and that is late, by God! I know the receptionist thought I was a loon when I walked in right on time. Like when are doctors ever on time?
I don’t know the solution to this problem. I’m 52 years old. I’m not going to wake up one morning and suddenly be lackadaisical about time. I know I’m going to the grave this way. The only problem is, it might be driving me to an early grave.
Just know, if you invite me to do something or go somewhere, I will be early. It is a sickness and one I’ve been unable to treat. Also know, if you need someone at a certain time to do something, I’m your gal! And if I’m late, some bad shit has happened.
Angela Traver
What is this blog about? Well, it's a general blog, but it is also a very specific blog. If you get that reference, you get a gold star! I have been a public relations professional and writer of press releases for more than 20 years—primarily in the booze biz. I decided to do some writing for fun and embrace the humor that gets me through most days. Hopefully it will make you chuckle—or at least smile. I’m a certified crazy magnet, and more than a little nutty myself, so buckle up. Also, I have two vices—profanity and red wine/whiskey. You’ve been warned. It should also be noted, that I’m a HUGE Bob & Sheri fan. I’ve been a listener for more than 20 years. This opportunity is a dream come true and it may have made me cry. That being said, I cry at everything. If you are into booze, dogs, food and/or knitting, hit me up on Instagram, Facebook or Twitter (although I’m terrible at Twitter and it scares me) @kyspiritsgal. You can also find all my previous blog posts at www.kyspiritsgal.com.
