Today I am waiting. Waiting for instructions. Waiting on information. Waiting for people who have never, nor will ever be, on time.
I hate lateness. It wastes my time and yours. Plus (and call me old-fashioned if you like) it's Just Plain Bad Manners.
We were brought up to be on time. Arriving on time is a sign of respect. It means you are a person who does what she says she will. It's also a sign that you are not a self-involved twit.
I think I'm getting hyper-sensitive to lateness because I deal with it almost every single day. It's not the "5-minutes-behind" variety of late, or even the "traffic was awful, I'm so sorry!" kind. It's when people say they'll be over to eat at 6:00 so you have dinner ready to go... and then they casually stroll in at 7:45 and tell you that they stopped for pizza on the way because they were SO hungry.
To take the edge off the waiting, I had an eclair.
My mom's are better.