A tale of pocketwatches

"The stars in their courses plot against us!"

Once upon a time there was a family who was perfect in every respect save one: They could not reconcile their schedules to their pocket-watches.

"We shall be there promptly!" they swore to each event. And they meant to. They really did.

"We shall be a tad late, actually." The Outsiders learned to watch for this second alert--indeed, they came to expect and to plan thus, for the family always followed up the former with the latter; they were quite punctual paying this compliment.

More often than not the family rang up the Outsiders again: "If it isn't too much of an inconvenience we'll be there...well...to put it quite frankly, rather late." Which the Outsiders learned to take as a sign that the family wouldn't be there at all.

 In the end the Outsiders were always right, which vexed the family to no end. They certainly didn't like this brouhaha between schedules and pocket-watches. It was the family curse--how could they help it? They couldn't. So the family continued to make their promises and swear to timeliness and get everything prepared in advance, but still their schedule moved at a tardy lounge and their watches flew till you'd think the gears would fly off, and late the family continued till the Outsiders never expected them at all.

"Wait for us!" the family shouted. "We'll be there! We promise!" And sometimes when the family held on with their teeth and dug in with their heels and slapped everyone and everything together with peanut-butter-and-jelly so they wouldn't slide about so, the Outsiders would glance out their front windows and nearly have a heart attack to actually see the family coming up the walk at a fashionably flustered pace.

The Aged member of the family no longer checked her pocket-watch and merely waited for the summons-or-not which came unfailingly.

The Seasoned members of the family learned to formulate plan B's and C's and D's and E's and F's (and even H's---just for good measure) and never to fret about the Plan A which hardly ever came about.

But the Youthful members of the family (not the Infantiles--they were too young to have pocketwatches) would not give up despite the wisest counsel. As a result they were the voice the Outsiders heard on the other end of the phone, or the senders-of the texts and emails expressing regrets, and over time they became quite a bit jaded with it all.

"Why can't we ever be on time?" Some of them grumbled.

"Better not to plan things at all," the Thunderous one suggested.

"We can still make it if we all leave NOW!" the Optimist would say.

But inevitably one or another of the Youthful Members would find they had lead and steel in their shoes instead of leather, or their watches had sped along in a way abnormal even for them, and the jading continued because they had been going about this way for so long.

Then one day, ONE DAY, the family had had enough. More than enough. Several of them were in tears over another aborted mission. (though this time the abortion was aided by an Outsider.) One of the Seasoned Youthful Members cracked her knuckles. She cleared her throat. She straightened her spine and Harrumphed at the pocketwatches and the digital watches and the mickey-mouse watches which all conspired against the family.

And do you know what this Seasoned Youthful Member did? She sat down in high dudgeon and wrote a blog post. And she hoped that someone in the wide wide world of blogging might have a wee spot of sympathy for the family and their timely curse.

The End.
(but she still thinks her family is pretty lovely. :)