The Goddess of Late for Work
I woke this morning at 2:45. That’s what time I always wake up. I turned the alarm off (can’t risk the snooze at that time of day), but I just couldn’t get out of bed. I lied there looking at my husband, listening to him breathe. His face was so masculine, so broad and strong, his breath so steady. I just wanted to admire him for a few minutes. A few minutes wouldn’t make me late.
Then Ethan (my 4-year-old) appeared at the door. He couldn’t sleep. I tiptoed him back to his bed (shaped like Lightning McQueen) and lied down with him until he fell back to sleep. Another 15 minutes.
I was almost in the shower when Aiden (my 2-year-old) started to moan. His soft complaints turned into screams for Mama. I threw a bottle in the microwave and got back to him before he woke the whole house up.
It was 3:45 now. I would have just gotten dressed and come to work, but I had to shower. HAD TO! (It was a hot night in the kitchen the night before.) So I jumped in the shower, fast as I could, threw on jeans and a T-shirt (sometimes I’m really grateful I’m on the radio and not television) and ran out the door. Still got here in time to read a few stories before we went on the air.
Now here’s the kicker. With my hair as curly as Oprah and no makeup on, my coworkers said. “Oh my gosh – you look 20-years-old!” (That was Mary.) Grant said, “Man! You look cute today.” Grant? Are you feeling alright? I looked like I got dressed in a truck stop. Then the guy at the store said, “Hey – how YOU doin’?” and I knew I was on to something here.
Maybe it was the love expressed that made me late. Or maybe there’s something to the I-don’t-have-time-to-do-my-hair look. Or maybe a face sans makeup is just good once in awhile, but the Goddess of Late for Work was workin’ this morning.
My suggestion – try being late next week and let the compliments come pouring in.