I hate being late. It makes me cranky and anxious. My heart races, my palms sweat. I can't sit still or stay quiet. If I'm even a few minutes late, I'm upset. Being early means that I'm on-time.
We were running late yesterday morning. I usually leave the house 15 minutes before school starts for the 9 minute drive. We usually have to sit in the car for a few minutes before they open the doors, but at least I know I'm not late. We left 5 minutes later than the usual so I was speeding.
And then I saw the cop heading right for me. He turned on the lights, did a u-ey and pulled me over. I was so mad at myself. I WAS speeding and it was raining, hard. Then I remembered that I left my purse at home, so no license. That's when the waterworks started. I'm embarrassed to say it but my body started doing it's own thing. My hands were shaking, the tears were flowing, wobbly voice, flailing limbs. So not pretty. I just blurted everything out as soon as the cop got to my door. Being late, no purse, I'm sorry, blah, blah, blah.
Luckily he took pity on me. No ticket but I did receive a stern warning about speeding, in this type of weather, with my daughter in the car, did I want to regret an accident my entire life that could be avoided. Man I felt like crap. Annabelle kept asking why I was crying, hopefully she didn't tell her teachers and classmates about my indiscretion.
I'm blaming this on my family. They are always late, sometimes by a lot. This is why I am the way I am. I wouldn't have gotten pulled over for speeding if my parents could arrive on time for things.
***On a side note, we didn't even end up being late to school. Even with the leaving late, the pulling over, the crying and the guilt trip, we ended up pulling into the lot and walking up to the door as Miss Amy was opening it. That's just my life isn't it?***