How to be 25 minutes late

I had a doctor's appointment this morning. It was at 8:30am.

At 8:53, I walked into the building. This is not like me. I hate to be late. Hate it, hate it, hate it.

So how did it happen?

First, Iain woke up at the exact moment I walked past his door this morning (7:02am). So I took my shower and then had to go get him. That slowed down dressing, hair brushing, etc.

Second, because I was rushing around trying to get him fed, changed, clothed and nurtured, I remembered to drink a cup of tea but forgot to eat breakfast. Since Charles was good enough to give me a Starbucks gift card at New Year's, I decided to take Route A because it went past one of our (many) local Starbucks locations.

Third, as if stopping at Starbucks wasn't enough to slow me down, lo and behold there was one of my students. A lovely man, but a talker. He jumped in line with me and we chatted away while I waited, ordered, paid, and walked toward the door. Tick tock, tick tock.

Fourth, Route A (chosen for its Starbucks convenience, remember - see how these things are all piggy-backing?) requires me to get onto our local beltline road. So I got in the left turn lane, and just before the arrow turned green the lady in front of me popped her trunk and jumped out in the snow, mouthing "I'm sorry!"

Fifth, once I managed to get around that poor lady (and all the best to you, Ma'am. That looked like No Fun.), the beltline road was clogged. All traffic going about 45.

Sixth, the doctor's office is on one of those frontage roads near a hospital. I turned right. Left would have been better. But once you go right, getting back to left requires 10 solid minutes of cutting the block, waiting at the light, etc.

Seventh, when I pulled in (finally!) to the parking structure, I discovered that I'd gone down a dead end. Cars parked on either side, there was no place to turn around. So I had to do a 25-point turn to get the car pointed back out. Yes, I suppose I could have backed out. But it was like 40 feet, in semi-darkness, at the office of a doctor who specializes in people with foot injuries. In other words: limping patients + darkness + melted snow = fatal accident waiting to happen (see? I'm good at math!). So I turned around.

And, at last, having found a parking space above, having stomped out of the car muttering to myself about f'ing traffic and f'ing directions and this and that, I made my way into the office.

On the plus side, the doctor tells me that the pain in my ankle is tendonitis and it's early and probably a shoe insert will do the trick. And that if I wear it most of the time I can wear "pretty girl shoes" (my phrase) on days I teach.

The wait wasn't so bad, either. Since another of my students was there with her son, I even had someone to talk to.

Did I mention that the doctor's office asked me to be half an hour early? Yeah.