[Good song, by the way]
I'm a little peeved. I should be northbound on I-35 to Tulsa right now. It's my dad's birthday/
OU-TX weekend/fall break for students. A trip home, since it's been literally ages since I've returned to my parents house in Broken Arrow, sounded like a fun excursion to get away from the madness that this week has been.
Instead of letting the open road hit me like the cool breeze, I'm in my tiny room
eagerly tapping my foot to wait on boyfriend to finally get back from work.
[He's late, which I should have expected.]
I don't know why I always think that suddenly Grahm is going to morph
into this punctuality freak like me... but every time we need to be somewhere,
I am not so kindly reminded that this is NOT the case and probably won't
ever be [but hey, an anal girl can dream can't she?].
See we had planned to get to Tulsa around 7 or so. This would be ideal timing to take my
dad out for a nice dinner for his birthday.
Yet, I wait.
And dad is going to be waiting, which isn't fun to do on your birthday, the one day of the year where time is supposed to revolve around you.
Anyway, this whole scheduling fiasco has got me wondering why I'm so time conscious.
What makes me so anal about punctuality, and my boyfriend so lax?
Why do I show up ten minutes early, when he would prefer showing up half an hour late to everything?
Since the answer is [obviously] not because I'm uptight, let's ponder.
I like things a certain way. I like the expected. I like to be on time, because I care what others think about me. [Who wants to be rude girl that's always arriving late?] There's not a lot
of give with me and it doesn't take much [this post pretty much makes this point] to get my hairs in a frenzy over a plan.
Okay, this may be starting to sound like I'm uptight...
But don't let me fool you.
[I'm a swell time.]
It's funny that I'm this way, yet I'm dating someone on the other end of the spectrum.
It makes me love him more, and hate him a little more all at the same time.
Grahm is the king of flow [note: flow should not be misconstrued as "smooth"].
I'm pretty sure he coined the phrase "Take a chill pill."
...And maybe I should.
A big, ginormous, everythin-is-going-to-be-ok chill pill.
Cause really, what's going to happen if I'm five, ten, [Gasp] fifteen minutes late?
I'm pretty sure no one will notice, my hair won't have to stand on end, and maybe I can
learn to love people a tad more because I'm not so worried about the time.
Plus, I won't have to list "uptight" on my character qualities someone is
going to have to put up with some day.