yep, me too. it’s like no matter how much i try and tell it to, my brain has no real automaic comprehension of how much time it takes to get something done, and no ability to prioritise when i’m in the middle of doing things. i’ll plan so that i have 3 solid hours to get ready for an appointment, knowing that it takes me 2 hours to shower and wash my hair, do makeup, eat, and throw on clothes, if it goes 100% perfectly. the extra hour is supposed to be bonus time to use ONCE i’m ready- as well as ‘just incase’ time.
…. but i take a 15 minute lie-in, cos getting up is a horrible experience. and then when i’m needlessly shaving my legs in the shower (adds a good 5 minutes – urgh!) i think “ok, i have extra time- i’m gonna make pancakes for breakfast!” (20 mins gone right there). so i faff about savouring them, and when i run upstairs to grab socks… “i’ll just check my emails for a second…. ” and low and behold i attempt to reply to 20 of them before the bf yells “what are you doing? socks don’t make a keyboard tapping noise!” and i refocus, then “wait, i didn’t do the catlitter last night!- oh no! sorries poor kitties! i will fix for your sensitive little noses right now!”… and socks are apparently not to be found in the sock drawer (which i ascertain after 10 minutes of rummaging and eventual throwing of the entire drawer contents -mainly receipts and cat toys- out on the floor) … which means they’re still in the dryer, so i have to run down 2 flights of stairs to retreive them (over obstacles and around cats who think i must be headed to the kitchen to get treats, so it’s the ideal opportunity to get underfoot!), and another 2 back upto the bathroom to blowdry them with the hairdryer cos it turns out that i didn’t turn the dryer ON last night- just put them IN it. *sigh*
… bf has been ready and watching tv for about 2 hours by this point, i’m running around yelling “i’ll be 15 minutes! ok i’m putting my socks on NOW!” with constant updates that he really doesn’t need (i swear they’re more for me)… and when i AM finally ready, THEN he decides to put his shoes and coat on, at his leisurely man-pace, and to check he has his phone and keys and wallet, while i jump up and down impatiently waiting for him, seething with exasperation, gnashing teeth, and trying to fill the time by ‘just quickly getting a drink’….and a cookie, and maybe checking the mail…..
the fact that it didn’t EVER take me 7 minutes to get to work- sure, i know that it’s a 7 minute drive, but obviously it’ll take me 2 minutes to check i have everything in the house and to pick it all up, another 2 to say goodbye to the cat, then lock the door, 2 to unlock the car and lob everything into the passenger footwell, check my mirors… nobody else ever puts diesel in the bloody thing so i have to detour to the petrol station… and the lights might (ok, WILL) be against me, i gotta find change for the parking meter, walk the 2 minutes across the lot to work, find the cryptically disguised bit of paper with my entry code on it in my bag somewhere, input that, unlock the door- thats a good 15 minutes of time minimum. but somehow, the brain cannot compute this.
i was ALWAYS 7 minutes late minimum for work. always. normally more like 15. or an hour if taking the bus was involved ( i routinely miss them, cos someone gives them a headsup that i’m comign down the road, so they come 5 minutes early on purpose). luckily my boss expected nothing less, and never schedualled me for anything before 9:30am, and used me as his own 9am ‘late-ometer’ (he’s dyslexic, there was a mutual understanding of our shared chaos management limitations- his was generally paperwork- based and came in stacks with hard to decypher doodling writen on it, while i was more of an incessantantly jabbering random mental tangent detouring mini cyclone that bounced around leaving bewildered co-workers in its wake).
but i’d stay 30 minutes after work to make up for the lost 15 at the start, and cos i was never ready to go on time cos i got too absorbed in my work and forgot to stop. and that made me late for the evening job, or babysitting appointment, or supermarket, or whatever- and by the time i got home every night i’d be in tears within 10 minutes from sheer exhaustion and so completely and utterly unable to think half straight that i’d go to bed at 6pm and not eat dinner- let alone even try and cook it.
i’ve never worked more than a 14 hour work week and managed to hold onto the job. my maximum timeframe for keeping a 9-5 monday to friday 38 hour week has been 4 months. i’ve been off work with stress and depression more times than i want to think about- purely because i cannot cope, while everyone else somehow manages too- and i have so many tangled thoughts racing about in my head, and so many screwups and missed deadlines and unfinished tasks and forgotten meetings following me around like ghosts rattling chains, that inevitably the two merge and i end up thinking about how crappy i am waaaaaay too much from 20 different angles, and get so trapped by this mental ‘rabbit in the headlights’ syndrome of ‘omg am i gonna screw this up? did i remember to put my knickers on today? where am i going and why and what am i supposed to be doing there?’ just going to the water cooler that i just stop trying full stop and stay under the duvet.
my preferred schedual is waking up about 11am to 2pm, going to bed around 4am- i’m awesomely coherant and focused at about midnight- which is a good 7 hours too late to use it at work. i’m 31 on monday…. i’ve not worked in 6 years out of procrastination and fear- i cannot cope with the who pattern of the inevitable awesome start, rapidly building stress and eventual screwing up yet AGAIN)… i have NO pension started, no savings, haven’t been able to claim any benefits as i emigrated a few years ago, no kids, am turning into a crazy cat lady, and thankfully have a bf who seriously deserves a sainthood- but something seriously has got to give, cos every birthday i look back and think “ok, what have i acheived? where am i going?” and want to weep at both thoughts- and every year also to panic a little more. – i haven’t been to visit my paents in 4 years cos i don’t have any money, and i keep imagining that my mum might die and how guilty and angry i’d feel about not being able to get my crap together enough to get myself $1,000 and a plane ticket with THREE YEARS of free time in which to do that.
oh, crap. see what i did there? essay. 
sorry.
um…. i’d get a job with a flexible schedual, or work from home, if i was you (if you can cope with that- i’d never get started, myself). that and tell my friends to arrange meet-ups with me for at least 30 minutes before they actually want me to be there. if they tell me i need to be somewhere by 11am, usually i’m there by 11:45am….so really they should want to meet me at 12am, just TELL me 11am, and i’ll be early! 