I am never late. I mean it. I am never late.
I actually have contingency plans in effect for the times that my inability to be tardy translates into the fact that I arrive somewhere incredibly early. I can get coffee as I wait, and the ubiquity of Starbucks as a franchise has made that possibility an almost certainty. I can read a book on my phone using my Kindle app. I can duck into some place that has a mirror and make sure that the mascara on my lower lashes hasn’t disappeared completely. And if it has and I happen to be anywhere near a Sephora or a place that has a MAC counter, I can fully reapply.
But this last Friday night I was late. I was forty minutes late, which turned out to be both unprecedented and fully unavoidable, and the whole thing threw me.