Late again

I missed the bus this morning.

It's not an uncommon occurrence - I've probably missed at least 40% of the buses/trains I've tried to catch in my life, and every day I was at school I had to run like a maniac while the bus sat and waited for me, or didn't occasionally, depending on how the driver liked to get their kicks. As you can imagine, I was really one of the cool kids at school.

The problem seems to lie in how I think about time. For some reason, despite the fact that it is a glaringly obvious feature of the universe, I can't seem to get it into my head that it takes TIME to get to the bus stop. No matter how many days it happens, I still somehow imagine that if I've managed to jumble all my clothes on by the time the bus should be leaving, that's enough. And in actual fact, there's a five minute walk to the bus stop that I just haven't considered, not to mention a whole load of making sure I've got everything in my bag, finding my jacket, and putting on shoes. On top of this, the more time I have, the more I relax and don't bother rushing, so my routine expands to overfill whatever time I give it.

Fortunately, I still live with my parents and my dad is going the same way as me this morning, so I've got a lift.

Unfortunately, he has no need to rush, so I'm left twiddling my thumbs while he has some pancakes and a leisurely shower. On top of this, he is blessing me with some of his pearls of wisdom: "you need to change your internal body clock by a few minutes" is a good one. And "you need the bus driver's number so you can ring him when you're leaving the house" could just be the solution to all my woes.

The only trouble is, I'm late and it's irritating.