You're not early - you're annoying


I am a perpetually late person. I’m talking 5-10 minutes late. Grabbing coffee at 3? See you at 3:08. Dinner reservations at 7? More like 7:11 and can we have that table by the window?

It’s not my fault. I was born late. Three weeks late, to be exact.

And, as I’ve paid more attention to whether my fashionable lateness is truly a problem in life — I’ve realized that it’s not. You know who is the problem, though? Early birds. Yeah. It’s true. I’ve sat in my hair stylist’s chair when her next appointment comes in 25 minutes early and is all, “Ohhh, I know I’m early — I just came from getting my oil changed…” and my hair stylist is like W T F. Because, now that person will sit there in the lounge and stare and will be asked by everyone who works there what stylist she’s waiting for. Same in doctor’s offices. I’ve worked for many and we couldn’t stand when patients came super early and clogged the waiting room, chatting with other patients about things like how their surgery wasn’t successful but they hope it goes better for them. Plus, HIPAA.

Of course, there are times I make sure I’m on time and even early if I’m asked to be early. I’m not purposely disrespectful, jeeze. I just don’t think many things are worth driving like a maniac to get to, or rushing out the door while freaking out, for just a few minutes difference.

This line of thinking was fully embraced in California, btw — where everyone was like, ‘no worries, s’all chill, glad you’re here’ and I intend to keep that piece of Cali with me wherever I go…

…where I will arrive an average of 7 minutes “late.”

The joy of purging

 The desk. 7 years ago.

The desk. 7 years ago.

Clutter makes me claustrophobic. I get anxious and moody and want to throw everything out. I didn’t grow up in a home where we had knick knacks and collectibles all over the place. Sure, we had a few, but they were always well-placed. And, moving 5 times over the past 5 years has really taught me how to live with less and less…’stuff.’

Each time we moved, I would do a MAJOR purge — donating whatever we no longer wanted (clothes, small pieces of furniture, baby gear, etc.) or tossing what I deemed to be in too poor condition that it would be insulting to donate. I choose to donate for the obvious reason of paying it forward and helping others — but also because garage sales are a lot of work and I absolutely cannot haggle in person over something I want to get rid of in the first place.

 The desk today. Plus a child. Yes, that’s the same dog!

The desk today. Plus a child. Yes, that’s the same dog!

I find purging to be extremely cathartic. It allows me to really see what I have, and what I don’t need. It’s like starting over with a clean slate. I regularly do this with clothes and accessories — if I haven’t worn something in the last 6 months, I either sell (on Poshmark — haggling online is much easier) or donate. This was especially therapeutic to do after becoming a mom, since my wardrobe changed, and I suddenly wasn’t wearing statement necklaces anymore. Is anyone?

Anyway, today — as I started preparing and packing for our next move, I went down my list of what we wouldn’t need and what was on its last leg. I decided to say goodbye to a desk I used to write at, but had become a sort of console table in our bedroom, holding books and a fake succulent. I had painted this desk from a horrid red/gold bird and forest design to a blue-gray and I should have added a protective coat on the top because there are some stains and water marks from I don’t even know what. So, while it’s fixable — I just feel like it’s time to give her a new home.

I exclusively donate to our Veterans, so I know she’ll be in good hands.