Thursday, January 26, 2017
In which Primo's lateness and procrastination is stressing me out and I am resorting to eating chocolate souffle, which is not really a sacrifice, and taking vicodin
(which is really for a backache, but maybe I have the backache because of Primo).
A woman in our neighborhood is hosting a fundraiser for Primo. He needs to be there at 5:00.
It is 4:45.
He has not taken a shower yet.
He stayed up all night.
All night, as in, when I got up at 6 a.m., he was still upstairs in his office. He didn't go to bed until noon.
It is now, as I mentioned 4:45.
He has not taken a shower.
He just came downstairs and informed me that she needs a package of cream cheese, which we have, and that he doesn't have to be there until 5:15. The event officially starts at 5:30.
I guess so much for my plan to watch a few more episodes of season 5 of Scandal and then walk to the event. I might as well ride with him.
"I probably will speak around 6:15 or 6:30," he says.
I groan and roll my eyes.
"You'll stay for at least an hour, won't you?" he asks.
I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. The. Wife.
I do not want to attend political fundraisers, period. For anyone. For anyone! This is going to be miserable.
And - it is now 4:49 and he still has not taken a shower.
The post about chronic lateness on Ask A Manager (a fabulous blog you should be reading) is so timely.