Last Friday, SH had an appointment with my hairdresser, Carol, at noon. I got home at 11:40 with the car and he was still in the shower.
Me: You're going to be late!
SH: No, I won't. Besides, why do you care?
Me: Because Carol is my hairdresser and it reflects badly on me if you are late.
SH does not care if he is late to the hairdresser, to a business meeting (with his own people), or to meet friends. I care. I care about being late when people are depending on me. I also care that people are late when I am waiting for them. I had a friend who ceased being a friend because she was so undependable. If I invite you to a meal and you accept and then show up two hours late without even calling? You're not being invited again.
SH cares a lot about being late to church. I couldn't care less. I go to church because it's something I think I should do and if I have a little less of it, especially a little less of the Marty Haugen music and other Gather hymnal drivel that we Catholics are expected to sing, then that is fine with me. He is mortified at the idea of being seen arriving late. Whatever is what I say.
He left the house at 11:50. At 11:57, I got a call.
SH: I'm walking into the salon. I'm NOT LATE. I told you I had enough time.
Me: Some day you are going to miss a plane* and I am going to laugh.
* I wouldn't really laugh if he missed a plane for work, but I would say a silent "I told you so" to myself. I would be very happy if we missed a plane we have to take in the near future, but I can't write about that here. If you are a facebook friend, you know what I am talking about.