I like things on time.
I’m not afraid to admit it. I like when 6:00 means 6:00 and ten minutes actually turns out to be ten minutes. I like meetings to start on time and more so, end on time. It is less because I am uber-important and I have a scientifically orchestrated schedule and more that I just like things to go as planned. (Hello, do we notice a theme this week? Yes, I know. Thank you.)
This is odd because I do consider myself a spontaneous person. Just last night, in fact, I pushed a fully clothed friend into a pool just because I could. How is that for spur of the moment? I am not the person who knows what they’re having for dinner a week from tomorrow or how many miles I’ll run on Saturday (though please, God, let it be some miles because the running lately has not been stellar- but we will discuss this another day). I’m all for just going with what feels good, within reason, and letting the rest happen.
The thing is, it’s dangerous. Something not starting or ending on time equals me, slightly afflicted with all things hyperactive, to be left to my own devices. If I have a block of time that I thought was accounted for, who knows what could happen. There’s a long list of things I’ve done when I had unplanned spare time including clean the oven (good), “invent” my own beer tap (not good), and write a song about thongs (oh trust me, way before any other song about thongs came about- remind me to share it sometime, you’ll love it).
I guess what I’m saying is, if anything you have planned ever involves me, please be as on time as possible. If you’re going to meet me for a run at 4:00, know that I will be ready at 4:00. I cannot be responsible for any ridiculousness that might occur if you’re late.
Exhibit A:
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