I’m behind in my posts.
Which is just the way I like to be.
Not for me the smugness of timely fashion. Oh no. I must type like a speed-freak, sweating with deadline fever.
Once or twice I’ve completed something ahead of time and let me tell you this, it wasn't the same. The mild, blink-and-you've-missed it sense of satisfaction was a bottle of Kaliber to a lush. It was nothing compared to the white heat of getting it in just before the bell goes.
I am late for nearly everything. I turn everything in in a turmoil of damp bumbling blathering. I am the queen of tube delays and empty printer cartridges.
Which is why I really am a beacon of light in today’s mediocrity.
You see: it’s about triumph in the face of laziness. About having produced 1000 words during the ad breaks of Friends. It's about staying in when there's a pint with your name on it about 500 meters down the road. About not staring out the window. Not listening to one more song. Not reading one more chapter. Not watching that documentary even if it IS educational. Not eating a bit more or drinking a bit more.
I am faced with a million reasons why I could never’ve made it that, quite frankly, I deserve a medal for even showing up with clean hair.
I am tardy but I am there.
Mostly in low-cut tops.