Crazy on Legs

The problem with me is that I am crazy. And not only AM I crazy but I MAKE myself crazy by being crazy.

To wit:

I am one of those people who is never late.

(Well, let me rephrase that, having just thought about the fact that I once sent my Christmas cards out in February.)

I am one of those people who will never keep you waiting. I always arrive either right on time or, more often than not, EARLY. (Except for that time when I stood Beth up but dudes, it took the threat of losing my SIGHT to keep me from my date with her.)

And the thing is, it causes me great stress to even contemplate being late. Seriously, I start to sweat and growl at people and I do things like only shaving one leg. Because I am really afraid of being late and I might be late if I take the time to shave both legs.

I'm not sure what's up with that. I mean, what's going to happen if I'm a few minutes late? Will the Late Police lock me up and throw away the key? I had a friend once who observed my complete and utter breakdown over the possibility that I might be late and he said, "You know, YOU waste as much time being early as most people waste being LATE."

And I said, "Oh,shutthehellupwhenIwantyourstupidopinionI'llaskforit."

Because I am mature like that. Also, witty.

In addition to the Fear of Lateness (which I'm sure has a scientific name because I am not the only person who has this fear. Just look at how many senior citizens get to the airport six hours early. Just in case. Because airplanes, as we all know, are notorious for leaving EARLY.), I do this other thing that I think is related to said fear.

Whenever I have an appointment, my entire day is structured around it. Take yesterday. (Please.) I had a doctor's appointment at 11:30 for which I needed to leave my house at 11:10. I dropped my daughter Jane off at school at 9:20 and came home, ready to tackle this little home improvement project I have in mind.

Only, I couldn't get started on it. I had, basically, an hour and a half before I needed to leave the house and I just ... stood around with my keys in my hand. Well, okay, not literally, but sort of.

Because I am CRAZY.

I could have left early and done some OTHER errands. I needed to drop some books off to a friend and I needed to go to the post office. But instead? I did nothing. Because I didn't want anything to interfere with my doctor's appointment, which was in TWO FREAKING HOURS. Exercise? Nope. Blogging? Nope. Taking a shower and shaving both legs? Nope.

What the HECK is WRONG with me???

I don't know. Sometimes the worst thing about being crazy is KNOWING I'm crazy and not being able to do anything about it.

(Although, I'm picturing an Intervention where all of my friends grab me and force me to be LATE for something! Someone hides my day-timer so that I miss whole appointments and flights and stuff! I'd be forced to sit and enjoy a second cup of coffee and the world wouldn't end!)

(Seriously. It might have to happen.)

Comments

hokgardner said…
I am the same way about being late. I have had panic attacks over being late. Brandon hates going to appointments with me because he knows I'll have a conniption fit if he stops to pour himself one more cup of coffee on the way out the door. So if there is such a thing as an intervention, I should probably have one too.
Jen said…
So, I found your blog yesterday. All I can say is Rhinebeck OMG - it was my first time and well, WOW. Oh, and I was having a fit that we were going to be late for an all day festival. I get it. I'm early. Always and for everything. My husband has been trying for years to teach me that being on time is not the same as being late.
Bullwinkle said…
They are called "holiday cards" and you've just recognized Chinese New Year when you send them in February.

What's yer point?

Now, the "fear of being late" coupled with the "fear of distraction, becoming involved and losing track of time because I have ADD" part? That I get.
Anonymous said…
Being married to a person who's favourite thing to yell is "Hurry up - we're going to be late for being half an hour early!" - trust me, you're driving everybody crazy!

LOL!

I'm pretty prompt and have been known to be early on occassion but recently I've decided that I am definitely worth the extra 2 minutes to shave my other leg.

Relax my friend.
LaDonna said…
Oh, to have your problem. I'm so chronically late for things that my mother started telling me to be places a full 30 minutes before she really wanted me there. I'm not as bad as I used to be, but still, it's not unusual for me to run 5 or 10 minutes behind. Someday, I hope to have your problem!
Katie said…
I am the Queen of L A T E! I can't help it. It's really a weird thing. No matter how many hours ahead of schedule I start out, I am always, without fail, late.

So I started a self preservation chant: What is the point in being early, you just have to wait for someone else.

It sucks to be me.
Unknown said…
How amazingly wonderful to hear that i am not the only person who suffers from this affliction!!! I got it form my dad, who adds an hour to every drive in case of a flat tire, plus a an extra half hour just to be safe.
Kerry said…
Count me into the "can't be late" club.

They did make a movie like you describe...Chaos Theory. The main character's wife makes him late, and it ruins his entire life.
Mrs.Q said…
Sometimes I just plain forget about the other leg. Given my hirsute heritage, that looks pretty funny in the summer. I've even got out of the shower without rinsing my hair. Not even coz I'm running late. What's with that?

I get the don't-be-late thing...though my issue is more the opposite: a parlyzing fear of being too early and looking like an idiot. So I'll get there early, and walk around the block 17 times, hoping nobody notices.

Yeah, I'm cool like that.

Want me to bring you a latte?
Anonymous said…
See, I knew the moment I met you that we were kindred spirits. First, you are a Pisces. Me too. Now, I find you are as crazy as I am. I am ALWAYS on time or early (except for work, which does not count). It's annoying. I literally panic if I am a minute late or think I might be. And I will harm anyone who tries to make me late. When I saw your title, I had to laugh because I get RLS and I affectionately call it "Crazy Legs." I thought for sure that was where you were going with this...
Stefanie said…
I am exactly the same way. I cannot stand being late, and the most trivial things make me just grumble and pace about like a bull seeing red. I feel like 20 minutes early is so much better than 2 late... but oh well.

If you figure out a cure, let me know?
Tenna Draper said…
According to the phobia website you have:

ALLEGROPHOBIA: Fear of being late and getting stuck behind an old lady on the M1 doing 12mph while keeping her left-hand indicator constsantly flashing.

Frankly, I don't think you have a fear of being late, and stress over that, but a fear of waiting, which also causes stress.

Think about it
LizzieK8 said…
It's an OCD thing. I hate being late, too, and stress about getting everyone moving to get there on time, er, early.

There's worse things to OCD about....so I consider myself lucky on that one.

It's just the way you are. When people bug you about it, just smile and say, "Yup, but, let's get going."
:)
I once suffered from your lateness phobia, but recovered when I realized that that I was becoming more and more like my mother (the horror!). Tell her you'll be there at 5 and she starts looking for you at 4.30, then comments, when you arrive at 4.45, that she's surprised by how late you are. So now I tell her to expect me a half-hour later than I intend to arrive. It works!
MadMad said…
Oh, I have this issue, too! Well, both of them, actually: the early and the crazy. ;)
Dear Crazy early person,

You are also funny.

Sincerely,
Laughing in Utah
Anonymous said…
I don`t know you, but when i read this post i was like " omg !! I am not the only one " I know exactly how it is. the worst is when the events happen in the evening.. then that day is completely ruined for me. I can`t even watch TV. I prepare and prepare, but I`m basically doing nothing.