Wednesday, July 28, 2010

i cant drive 55

i have two problems in life
(yes. i like to imagine that there are only two)

number one.  i am always late. if i have been on time to your event, consider yourself one of the lucky few. i set all my clocks at different times, so that way it forces me to get ready faster (do not tell me that it doesnt work. because i like my fantasy world, thank you very much).  my bedroom clock is ... 16 or 18 minutes fast .. something like that. my car clock is 10 minutes fast.  well actually, and hour and 10 minutes, because i never changed the hour after our trip to idaho.  and our oven and microwave used to be wrong. but nathan wont let that happen anymore. so i just avoid looking at them.
if you tell me to be somewhere at 6pm, i tell nathan we have to be there at 530pm.  if he believes it and starts getting ready, i kind of believe it. and sometimes that helps me.  probably what would work best - is if you tell me to be somewhere a half hour ahead of time. then ill plan for an extra half hour - and FOR SURE i would be on time.  (i know i just jinxed myself)

second problem.  i have a lead foot.  perhaps this is a byproduct of always being late.  as im running out of the house, putting my earings in, i think to myself, "self, we need to speed like its our job to get to (insert anything here) on time."  as im backing out of the driveway, putting on mascara ... really?!?  ive probably had hours to prepare, and im still getting ready?!? ... i definitely have one thing on my mind. and its not the cops who are perched and waiting for my speeding self to go by.  what you may or may not know about me is the amount of tickets i have gotten in my life. its actually too many to count. 

point of story?  dont expect me to be on time.  and do expect me to show up with a story about crying to a police officer. 

the end.

(ps  please tell me know where the title of the post came from.  my husband doesnt know. and it KILLS me)

1 comment:

DeeBoyzMomma said...

4 photo radar tickets in the last three months. No joke. And, yes. That's two more than when we were in Yellowstone.