This sounds like one of those stupid Quora questions, most of them posed by bored 14-year-olds in Bangladesh: Why, damn it, why does it take so goddamn LONG to get out of the house when you’re old? The older you get, the more time it takes to get into the car.
This morning I needed to leave at 8:30 to meet my son and schlep the sick dog to the vet, way to hell and gone over in the downscale section of Paradise Valley, which is a hefty long way from here through post-rush-hour traffic.
Up at 5:30, the usual hour. You’d think three hours would be plenty of time to get ready and out the door, eh? Not so…
- Check e-mail.
- Scan headlines.
- Laugh at news, in the mode of anyone who lives in a freaking Monty Python Show.
- Discover Charley’s symptoms could occur if he had been munching on compost, as dogs will do.
- E-mail son; realize he won’t see e-mail.
- E-mail two friends, only one of whom is likely to be up at that hour; ask them to text him w/ message to keep dog away from compost.
- Try to print out one page on compost toxicity for vet; find printer isn’t working.
- Fart with printer; get it working with one unit but not the other. E-mail page to self, open it on other computer, print it out, fold up printout, jam it in purse which is too small to hold another scrap of junk.
- Clean the pool.
- Realize I forgot to shock-treat last night; realize I can’t do that until tonight.
- Clean out pool equipment preparatory to this evening’s shock treat.
- Jump in the pool.
- Realize I can’t shower and wash hair in the hose because guys blacktopping the streets are running around in big contraptions tall enough to let the driver peer over the wall.
- Draw bath.
- Feed dogs.
- Start coffee.
- Jump in bath, wash hair.
- Race to kitchen, grab boiling pot, pour water over coffee in French press.
- Back to bathroom. Grab comb, yank tangles out of hair.
- Cut up an apple, cheese; grab nuts, grab blueberries; put on serving dish.
- Assemble snacks for begging dogs, by way of keeping them out of my hair while I’m eating.
- Pour coffee, grab plates of food, retreat to deck for breakfast.
- Consume food while holding off dogs with cheese, carrots, blueberries and pieces of kibble and reading an Economist article.
- Back to bathroom: paint face.
- Finish getting dressed.
- Back to bathroom: braid hair.
- Throw ice in a mug, pour in iced tea, put in car.
- Leave outgoing mail in mailbox, raise flag.
- Lock doors.
- Lock doors.
- Lock doors.
- Check on dogs.
- Lock yet another door.
- Fly out of the garage, running only 5 minutes late.
Huh. Come to think of it, I suppose it’s surprising, in a good way (sort of) that it “only” takes three hours to get out of here.