There might be such a thing as being too punctual. Today, going to pick up my dad to take him to dialysis, I was blocked by a freight train. I don't mind this if the freight train is moving, but I get more than a little annoyed if it pulls across the road, then stops dead. That's what happened this time. When I finally got fed up and turned around to seek an alternative route, of course it started moving again, but I was already out of line, and the line had become considerable. So I went the other way around.
Before I was even ten minutes late, I got a call on the cell from Margaret. I just said "Freight train," and she understood. But it's funny to have become so reliable that even being eight minutes late is enough to excite concern. I hope people don't start setting clocks by me!
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