“I’ll be there in five minutes!”

-she said so many times she spontaneously turned into a clock-

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If you know me at all, you have probably noticed that my ability to be anywhere or do anything on time is astonishingly inadequate. If you don’t know me at all, please read the previous sentence and proceed to judge me as you see appropriate. Class, social gatherings, due dates and deadlines, and sometimes even my own parties for one all exist in this little translucent punctuality-bubble, whose exterior is often impenetrable — no matter how much preparation time I give myself to make sure I am ON MO’FUCKIN’ TIME.

The frustrating part is, I’ve been this way my whole life. Perhaps it’s a biological thing: I have a parent-who-shall-not-be-named who has been perpetually late for as long as I can remember (you’re still awesome though). It’s entirely possible that my genetic make-up had already set me up for failure even before I could actively choose to be late. I’m innately tardy. You’d think I would have learned from this by now and like, made motions to change my ways, right? ….. that’s a hard NOPE. Somehow, no matter what I do, I just canNOT. BE ANYWHERE. OR DO ANYTHING. ON. TIME. FGSHGSHDGFHGF.

Would you like to know what I’ve done to alleviate this issue? Rather than allot myself an extra hour-or-so of buffer time to ensure that I am either on time or even -gasp- EArLy*!~~, I have instead established a relatively large tendency to disguise my lateness in little placating phrases, such as, “I’ll be there in 5 minutes!” Usually if I say I’ll be there in 5 minutes, I won’t be there in 5 minutes. It will be more like 15, 30, maybe even 60 if I’m feeling like a real shithead. In my tiny little brain, saying that I’m only 5 minutes away from somewhere or that I’m almost finished something feels almost as appropriate a response as honesty. (??????)

It’s never coming from a bad place when I shoot you this little line, it’s just that I would rather you think that I’m hurriedly rushing to meet you or to finish what I’m supposed to be doing, than know that what I’m really doing is trying to learn how to twerk. I’m sure there are many of you who have learned that when I say I’m 5 minutes away it usually means I’M NOT, but for future reference — and so you can see through my bullshit — here is a list of things that “I’ll be there in 5 minutes!” usually means:

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I’m just about to get in the shower. Which also usually means that it’s going to take me at least twenty minutes to shampoo, condition, wash my face, soap, shave my legs, and moisturize. At least.

I’ve just turned on my flat iron and curling wand. Art takes time.

I’m waiting to see who gets sent home on The Bachelor. I didn’t just sit through 45 minutes of 20 different ladies all making out with the same guy to stop right before the rose ceremony starts. PUH-LEASE.

I’m still in bed and/or haven’t put pants on yet. I have every desire to get up and put pants on eventually. No one likes feeling like a failure ALL day. But then usually something like this will happen…

I have just started another episode of Friends, and now I’m committing to the next 24 minutes before I even contemplate getting out of bed.

I’m in the middle of making a gourmet meal. One that most often consists of putting frozen vegetables and cut up hotdogs into some chicken broth and putting that in the microwave #studentlyfe.

I still haven’t figured out what to wear. A lot of thought has to go into an OOTD, especially when you have to account for weather, venue, theme, style, and whether or not you’re going to make it home in one piece.

I’ve found something to wear and am now trying to figure out how to tape my shirt to my body. Backless shirts are beautiful things, except that they require multiple secret contraptions and double-sided tape to keep up the facade of flawlessness.

My roommate ordered Swiss Chalet for dinner, so obviously now I have to wait till it arrives and steal some of her fries.

I’ve gotten so deep into the Pinterest world that I’ve lost my way back. You can’t fuck around when you’re pinning beautiful kitchens and outfits you would never be able to afford and cute animals that you will never own because you can’t even keep a cactus alive. Or, similarly,

I’m too busy looking at gifs on Tumblr. A favourite these days is The 100. #clexa4ever

I’m trying desperately to finish a blog, so I can actually publish one before midnight on a Sunday for once. Priorities, folks.

So, I hope that in the future, if I tell you “I’ll be there in 5 minutes!” you’ll be able to go, “Hey man, stop eating that fudgcicle, get off your butt, and be on time.” If I’ve learned anything from being perpetually late to almost everything, it’s that there are people who care enough about me who will usually make sure I have my shit together when it really matters. Maybe there’s a rehab centre for people who have a problem being punctual… I should go there… someone hold a dramatic intervention so I can resent it at first and then emerge as a *~*CHANGED PERSON*~* several months later and we can just tell everyone I went on a lengthy vacation. In all seriousness though, I am trying to be better about this! So never take it personally when I tell you I’m almost there, or almost done, and then proceed to take another hour… it’s for your own good.

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