The Importance Of Speeding

My phone reads 5:01. Google maps approximates it will take 1 hour and 3 minutes to drive to the North Seattle Campus for my class at 6 p.m. Reluctantly I pause Top Gear with only 7 minutes left, but for some odd reason that small remainder is nibbling at my conscience, begging for me to enjoy it. Maybe I could finish it? Traffic may not be too bad today. Perhaps Google map's estimate is off, after all they don't account for speeding? No! You need to go now. You were late last week and should not be late to the same class again. This internal debate is a common occurrence of mine. My habit of being late is not one which I have only recently acquired. No, this trait has been given to me by many coworkers and family member in the past. Whether

My judgement is often skewed by my cloudy conscience immediately upon waking up. The decision to get up or hit snooze on my phone has slowly became a subconscious action. One morning I woke up to knocking at my barracks door. Rubbing my eyes as I rose out bed, I checked my alarm clock, it read 5:30, plenty of time for me to get to work by 6. As I answered the door, I was met with a furious stare from my team leader. Angrily he began berating me for being late. My confusion was solved when I checked the alarm again, it was 6:30, I had misread it initially and was half an hour late for work . Disbelief had evaporated quickly and once again the realization that I had done it again. At that time I lived with three alarm clocks and put them all around my barracks room to no avail. Even subconsciously I try to squeeze out every possible minute to attain 'just one more minute' of

I had every desire to be early and on time when I got a second date with my girlfriend. I was dressed and ready to go with time to spare. Shortly before it was time to leave, I came to the conclusion I should get her flowers. I picked out some nice looking carnations, it was unbeknownst to me that carnations are considered cheap. On the drive I found myself being laughed at on the phone by a friend, he pleaded that I do not give her carnations. I was given a choice, to be on time with my hand picked carnations or once again find myself racing time and stopping at a floral shop for new flowers. Of course, I chose to get new flowers. This is often the conclusion I reach when faced with a choice similar to this