Let me just say that I am usually at work on time in the mornings. I may be a couple of minutes late here or there, but I’m usually here when I’m supposed to be. My boss lives about 45 miles east of L.A. and it takes her For.Ev.Er to get here each morning – sometimes as many as two hours.
This morning, Viva and I were delayed for a variety of reasons getting out the door, and then we hit really bad traffic. Cars were crawling on Melrose Avenue at a pace reserved for, say, your garden-variety Helix Aspersa. We arrived at Viva’s school at 8:30 – which is when I am usually arriving at work.
O woe! I unloaded all her stuff and spoke with her teacher briefly, then delivered her unto the playground and ran back to my car. Traffic was just as bad getting to work. I sheepishly slimed in at about 8:55.
Two seconds later my boss popped up at my desk, all bubbly and full of energy. She has a meeting this morning, so she made an effort to leave extra early to make sure she had time to prepare. She usually doesn’t get here until close to 10 every morning, and I am pretty much on the honor system to be here on time. I felt like a gigantic ass.