Mail / Late

Stopped at the post office to mail in the house payment (yes, I'm fully aware I can do it online, just for this one thing I have to do it the old-school way).  Walked up to the mail slot and sent that letter sailing through.  Had a mental image of the letter taking flight, right over the bin, onto the floor, where it gets trodden under foot, eventually picked up and thrown away, never to arrive at it's destination.  Now I'm worried.  I'll be checking to make sure the payment arrives.

As I was waiting for someone (who was late) to arrive at the house this morning, I thought about schedules and time.  It is nearly impossible for me to be late.  I actually start to get anxiety if I need to be somewhere and the time is short.  My stomach clenches up, my breathing speeds.  Where - oh where - did this come from?  I know lots of people who blithely float through life, not caring if they're early (which happens rarely) or a half hour late. (A member of my book group is routinely an hour late, stays for maybe half an hour and then leaves early....I wonder if she'll be one of those that's late to Heaven?  And what will they do with the latecomers?)

I've often wondered about being late to things.  I dislike being late to a movie (must see every preview), wouldn't dream of being late to church, don't care to make anyone wait on me; I can't seem to be late for an appointment (never mind that doctors usually are late for my appointment) and don't ever want to be late for something fun.

I guess I don't want to be late for some fabulous opportunity, it might not ever come around again.