It's only 15 Minutes

Fifteen minutes makes all the difference. It's only 15 minutes, you say. 

It's 15 minutes. 

Today, I went into work an hour early. I got there at just after 8 a.m. with the knowledge that I had an engagement after work. Normally, I slope in just before nine and stay until six, getting the bulk of my work done in the afternoon, after a morning of meetings. 

I had it all planned out. 

Turn off the computer. Jump under the shower. Get dressed. Put on some make up. Grab my little speaker. Feed the cat. Grab my stuff and get on the tram for a six 'o' clock kick off at my friend's gallery on Brunswick Street for six. 

This was cutting it fine. Trams are a fickle mode of transport. 

And that was the plan. 

Did it happen that everything ran to plan. 

No. 

There was a meeting.

Meetings scheduled for 4.30 p.m. never bring good tidings. What was being discussed was by the by. 

I asked for the first part of the meeting if I could keep my camera off as I was doing some editing in the background, and nobody needs to see my tongue hanging out the side of mouth as I do the fine mouse work. I was nearly finished the document. On a normal night, I'd be staying back to get it finished. But no. I had a meeting and I wanted to be out the door by five. 

Five 'o' clock came. They were still talking. 

There was something I needed to ask, so I put up my screen hand. 

They kept talking. By this time my camera was politely on. My virtual hand was still raised. 

I am, if anything, polite. 

Ten past five comes. They are still talking. 

My hackles are rising. 

At 5.13 p.m. my hand was noticed and I was given the floor. 

I politely stated that I had an appointment, it was after five, but I needed some information. This was given. I politely said goodbye, left the others to the meeting, then turned off my computer.

It was 5.15 p.m. by then. 

And sure, I was only running 15 minutes behind schedule, but I was fuming on the inside. 

I raced through my preparations, fed the cat, grabbed my little speaker (which was needed at the venue) and made my way to the gathering. I just missed a tram. Another came in a few minutes. I arrived 30 minutes late, not that it was a big issue, but I had it all planned. 

And my overthinking, super planning pain in the arse brain was going into overdrive. 

I finally found my equilibrium another 15 minutes after arriving. My friend runs a gallery which specialises in French posters. Yes, it's very niche, but I was in heaven. She even had a French version of this poster. Bliss. 

(My friend has been told that if she ever finds a movie poster of Three Colours: Blue to give me a call. I'd be sorely tempted to take if off her hands. It's my favourite film.)

But it's amazing how 15 minutes can bugger up your day so badly. 

At least it's back on track now. 

Today's song: