One time, a very long time ago, someone made up this sick burn that put a chronically late person in their place, and after which every one laughed uproariously and also for a long time.
“Sally will be late to her own funeral!”
Now this hilarious joke, which was so on point that it has become a cliche, is a dad joke. “A dad joke? What’s that Kaley?” A dad joke is something that your dad says, over and over again, which was never funny, but becomes funny to your dad simply because you do not find it funny. An example of a dad joke is: Will Christmas be on the 25th this year?
I was ruminating on this funeral joke for several reasons. Mostly because it is an accurate depiction of my life. I’m not ever trying to be late. In fact, I am always trying to be on time. I just can’t. Sometimes I swear the minute hand has miraculously jumped forward!! I’m never usually too late. People who are 30-60 minutes late are pretty comfortable with their lateness. They rock lateness. My 5-15 minute lateness is hard. I just want to be on time. I haven’t been late to my own funeral, but I have been late to my own baby shower. Also, my job, preschool pick up, preschool drop off, church, my wedding, assorted playdates, a few movies, and a baptism. While I don’t think I’ve been late to anyone else’s funeral… nope, I’m remembering. I definitely was late to a funeral. (100 emoji)
My lateness is a two prong problem. The first is I don’t have an accurate gauge of when to leave. Will it take 2 minutes to get across town? No really will it? I’m not sure- I’m asking. The second is poor time management.
My mind: “Leave now. It is time to go.”
My heart: “You should try on at least 3 more shirts. It’ll take 3 seconds”
20 minutes later…
You see, intending to leave on time and actually leaving on time are two entirely different things.