Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Post 1634 - First Day Back

Before I get started, I want to confirm for you that I don't plan to  have a blog post ever again that's entitled "Back in the City".  Yesterday's blog post title was an ironic comment on the number of times I have used that title.  It's probably not far off the mark, though.   I have used that title a lot.  Too much.

Today was the first day back to work after a 5 day mini vacation.  4 of those days I was at the cottage for the first time in 2011.  Patricia's already planning to go back up there next week, before I have a chance to return.

Not much to report, actually.  I applied for a job this evening; the deadline is a scant 2 hours from now.  If not for the last minute, nothing would get done in my life.  My whole life, if I can put off something from one day to the next, I do.  It is not laziness, exactly.  It is more of a blase attitude towards things.  If they get done, correctly, on time or a little early, what's the big problem?  Drives some people crazy, but I don't get what their complaint is.

One time, several years ago, I had my father here in the city for a doctor's appointment.  I had every intention of driving him home after dinner, even though it would mean a comparatively  late evening.  I began to drive him home, but he was... what word will will I use?   Insistent.   Yeah.  Let's use that word.

Anyway, I started to drive him home.  He convinced me, as only he could, that he would prefer to take the bus home.  Like, really prefer.  It was nearly too late to make this accommodation, as we were nearly out of the city and it was already past 6pm.  I turned the van around and drove too fast, running red lights and nearly ran people over, to make it to the terminal.  It was about 6:25 when we got to the terminal in downtown Halifax.  The ticket seller looked at his watch and admonished us but had to admit that we weren't too late.  I helped Dad get on his bus, which took off moments later.  The whole incident reminded me of Thor #207, published in 1973.  You know what I mean.

My point?  Well, Dad made the bus.  I didn't think he would, but he did.  I'd have been delighted to drive him home, but there was a sudden change of plans.  It was the last minute, nearly literally, but it got done.  My nearly unbroken, unblemished record, remained so.  Being late, not doing something within the time allotted to me, is something I find nearly impossible to do.  I'm sorry.

I rest my case.


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