Throwing in the towel

I should just give up on getting to work at 6:45 a.m. It’s the time I tell people I get here. And it used to be true. Just not anymore.

Because I never get here by 6:45 a.m. I’m usually leaving my house at 6:40 a.m.

I have no idea where the time is going. I get up. I walk the dog (in the rain today). I make coffee. I read the Bible. I eat breakfast. I meander upstairs. I make the bed. I get ready for work. I look at the clock . . . and it’s like 6:20 a.m.

I think the key word here is meander. I kind of putter around all morning, then realize, Hey, I have to go to work! And then I realize I still have to get my lunch together and find my coat, locate my purse, give the dog a treat, and get out the door.

And I can’t really blame Rain or Coffee anymore.

It’s my fault. I think. Maybe.

But instead of assigning blame, I’m just giving up.

Y’all, I get to work at 7 a.m.

(And you’re going to wish you worked with me, because I brought leftover cake to work today. And I’m a good cook.)