Sorry about Friday. Turns out I scheduled that post for July instead of June. The first thing I do in the morning before I leave for the day is read the day’s post and make sure it pops up on my phone and to check that it doesn’t have any typos. But for some reason on Friday I didn’t do that. If I had, of course I would have corrected the problem.

Go figure.  

The fact that I didn’t post correctly is ironic, because the post was about the benefits of being early. I like to think that everything good that has happened to me in my life is because of three things: reading books, enjoying solitude, and being early.

Now, I don’t refer here to the responsible qualities of early, although that is a major part of it. Of course being early makes you look responsible. Getting to work early and pleasing your boss is good, and getting Nana to the Jimmy Buffett venue early so that she doesn’t need to walk too far is being a good grandkid.

I refer instead to the quiet and unmuddled qualities of early. The clean, fresh qualities of early. Some of the best memories of my life have been when I was alone, and at my venue earlier than everyone else.

Alone in the school copy room as I sipped coffee and watched the early morning sun filter through the windows, leisurely making copies before the requisite daily cawing of seagulls (read, female faculty) commenced.

Getting to the gym early and enjoying plenty of floor space and the ability to move my body expansively and generously through the necessary range of movement.

Enjoying the beach in early morning, with all its grandeur and stillness.

Arriving early to church and getting my favorite pew, shutting my eyes and clearing my mind of troubles, and enjoying the empty cavernous peace before the music starts and the kids start screaming.

Being to the airport so early that I have time to visit the lounge, poke around gift shops, and people watch.

Early to hiking trails, busy restaurants, my favorite stores, enjoying the things I love about them without scads of other people ruining my experience. And that is the point. People have every right to descend upon the places I love, but it is my choice to already be up, there and gone by the time they show up. If it’s possible.

Maybe you like going out to dinner at peak time and waiting in line. Or having to fight for a pew in church fifteen minutes into the mass. Or sitting in traffic to get to work, then having to park a mile away. If I was a sociologist, I would posit that those are indicators of something aberrant in your personality. And what does it say about ME that I do everything possible to engage in activities (work excluded) that promise as little human interaction possible?

Talk about aberrant.

Nonetheless, that is what is beautiful about the human race. How different we all are. And somehow, we all manage to interact on this crazy spinning ball of mud.

Gotta run and get a good parking spot at work.