I was late this morning. Like, really late. And it was totally my fault.
You see, I decided I would not allow my dog to continue to bark incessantly at the new dog next door. My dog decided our house really, really needed protection from an albino pouch half his size, and wasn’t moving from his post. I also decided that my dog is getting a little too big for me to carry him unwillingly up the stairs away from the other dog. That being the case, I decided to introduce my dog to the new dog so that he would stop freaking the f*** out and come upstairs of his own accord.
It worked. Dog calmed, socialized, and brought back in the house. I am now ten minutes late. No biggie.
I then decided that I would intervene when my three-year-old lost his sh** because he couldn’t wear his pirate shoes – the shoes that have no Velcro left, are too small, and have gone to the great shoe store in the sky. He wanted those shoes. Not any of the other shoes littering up his room which he loved yesterday – no!
I decided that I would reason with him, and when that didn’t work (clearly – he’s three), I decided that I would just comfort him instead. I am now twenty minutes late.
Because I’ve stayed so long, my kids think I am taking them to school. They both attempted to get in my car. I decided to not bring them to work with me (I thought you would appreciate that). I instead helped my husband load them in to his car and strap them in to their seats. I am now 25 minutes late.
Finally, I decided it was time to go to work…harried and 25 minutes late.
So, boss, I am late this morning and I look like hell. It is my fault. Life happened and I decided to take care of it. Perhaps I won’t be late tomorrow morning, but I can guarantee you I will be leaving early this afternoon…
I have decided I need a drink.