I need your help, my three faithfuls.

I have got to–got to–stop running late all the time.

I have had places to be and people to see and a valid driver’s license for over twenty years.  And yet two decades have not taught me that I should allow myself an extra–oh, I don’t know, two minutes maybe?–for unexpected incedentals, like–oh, I don’t know–driving to the wrong church building for a fireside in which  you and your two daughters are scheduled to perform.

We weren’t exactly late tonight, but we weren’t early enough to manage the catastrophe of miscommunication that landed us in an empty chapel five miles away from where everyone else was waiting expectantly.  Arriving an extra two (or twenty) minutes early might have been a good idea.  Would have saved a lot of embarrassment, maybe even a few tears.  (Not mine.  My daughter’s.  Worse, much worse.  Horrible, even.)

Help me, friends.  For the love of all that’s goodness and promptness, please help me.  I know many of you reading this get to things on time.  I know it’s only a matter of habit and a little discipline.  I know running late is a mark of carelessness.  Selfishness, even.  I know I should be better than that.  I know.  I know.

But it’s like a dog to vomit:  I always think I have just a few more minutes to finish up just a few more things before I need to leave.  Really important things, like putting the laundry away or defrosting the chicken for dinner or checking to see if you’ve commented on my blog.  Yeah, I’m a pretty impressively busy woman.  Much busier than all those people who arrive on time, for sure.

I need to start considering everywhere I go to be a Very Important Date.  Church stuff, school stuff, social stuff.  When I know I have to be somewhere on time–like the airport–I get there on time.  I’m obviously capable of it.  I just need to apply that same standard to everything else.  I will consider writing this admission my First Step To Change.  Is there a twelve-step program out there for people like me?  Is it expensive?  If yes (and no), then sign me up.  I’ll be there.  On time.

Maybe.