late to church

I've always struggled with punctuality. Just like when I see a speed limit sign, I ALWAYS calculate 5 mph faster. I don't even see 30mph, I see 35mph. *ssshhhhhh, don't tell anyone* (ha - as I post it for all the world to see)

When someone says, I'll meet you at 10:30 - it's like being at my destination AT 10:30 doesn't even click. I saw a Dr. Phil episode on this exact issue, and now I've got him in the back of my head - 'You weren't 'late' when you didn't show up on time - you were late before you left the house!' There's that, and the whole "Not valuing others' time" and rude behavior along those lines.

The first Sunday I lived "on my own" I was late to church. I know the Doc doesn't allow excuses, but since he's not here, can I just say in my defense, I had no clue where anything was!! Everything was still in boxes and suitcases and I ended up being 'fashionably late.' (See, even now, I can here the doc - or my MOM - saying: you should have found everything the night before and been prepared for your activities the following morning. Ugh - sometimes I think meds to get these voices Out of my Head!)

The following Sundays, I was either, On time, or just one minute early, and the greeter has since given me a hard time. He always says he'll swing by my place on his way to church and rap on my windows. (That would only cause me to have a HEART ATTACK though, meaning I would be absent from church altogether!)

The last Sunday of Nov. we had over 6" of snow that had freshly fallen the whole day before. Attempting to be a more responsible human being, I shoveled a path to my garage Sat. before dark, and then woke up extra early (not with the sun or anything - but early for me) Sun. morning to re-shovel the path so I'd have a nice clear path when I got my car out of the garage.

After shoveling, showering, and getting ready, I headed out for church. I left 15 minutes early and was prouder than a peacock as I "carefully" trotted down to the garage. (Pride - #1 problem) I decided I didn't need to wear my big clunky boots b/c I had shoveled a path - even though the remainder of my driveway (98%) was still covered in deep snow. (Boots left in house - #2 problem)

I threw opened the door and began to step into the garage only to have the door roll back down and almost hit me on the head. Hmmm, that was weird. I threw open the door again, more gently, thinking maybe I was too harsh the first time. Same result. Again, and again, and again, and again, and again I tried but to no avail. The door would drop right to my nose - just enough where I could pull my car out. I couldn't believe it. I was getting hotter by the second. By now I'm having a chat with the door. "I can't believe this!! I finally leave for church early and now I'm gonna be late b/c I can't get my stinkin' car OUT of the garage!!!!" UHHHHHHH

Finally the door stayed opened and I began to back my car out of the garage. (I "Pulled-in" instead of "Backing-in" the garage - #3 problem) My tires just spun their little hearts out. I'd spin and spin and spin, and then I'd pull into the garage a little. Then I'd try backing out again. Back and forth I went for quite some time.

I finally got backed out and began heading down the driveway, when some "brains" kicked in. I figured I was already late - I better go back to the house, get some boots, just in case I got stuck in the middle of the driveway or something.

Not happy at all -- grumbling, I got out of the car, snow immediately poured into every part of my shoes, most unpleasant I assure you. As I was walking towards the house, I looked down at my left hand. There were dirty marks I couldn't make out. As I looked closer I said, "Oh, nice - that stupid door got grease all over my hand." I decided to check my right hand, since that's the one I was using to move the door up, up, up, and up again. As I turned my palm face up I about died. My whole hand was covered in "grease!" At second glance though, I realized I wasn't looking at grease I was looking at Blood!!! It was gushing out of my thumb, and I about lost feeling in my legs. (Weak stomach at sight of blood - #4 problem)

Funny, up to that point, wrestling with trying to get my car out of the garage, I never felt one ounce of pain from my thumb. My hands were just cold enough where they were a little numb. As soon as I saw that blood though, instantaneous pain.

When it was all said and done, I had blood on my scarf and all over my steering wheel, and I still don't know exactly how I got hurt! It must have been when I was getting angry with that door - but to this day that's only a 'logical' guess. I can tell you this though -- I am MUCH more careful when opening that garage door now.

And instead of turning all of my clocks ahead - I'm just trying to be better at getting ready earlier - so I have more time for the "ugh! I forgot's" as I'm heading out the door.

Update on the finger - After over 2 weeks of my thumb being in a band aide it is pretty much completely healed. Of course, I got a huge dry patch on the top part of my thumb, but I attribute that to having the band aide adhesive on it continually for more than 2 weeks.

I feel like Humpty Dumpty. One second I'm fallin' apart - the next I'm being pieced back together little-by-little.