Rebel Friday Fail

I carpool with a friend of mine.  She's very funny, and you just never know what to expect when you ride with her.  A cup full of tiny shovels from Orange Leaf?  Got it!  A restroom stop at a fireworks warehouse?  Done it!  Listened to a lot of Glee songs?  Yep.

She is a lot of fun, and since we have to leave at the butt-crack of dawn for our long commute, it makes those early mornings a lot more bearable.

This past week, we had to stay at school late for a night event.  After we left, I suggested that we could go to work later in the morning so we could sleep in a little bit late.  If we made it to work on time, and liked it, we could do this weekly and call it "Rebel Friday."  I even declared that I was not going to wear an official school shirt (as is a requirement on Fridays in my school).

I didn't think it through, though.  You see, I'm not a rebel.  Not by a long shot.  I am neurotic.  If I'm on time to an event, I feel like I am late.  I have to be early to things.  So, by getting to work at the exact time I am supposed to be there, I feel like a failure.

We left, marveling at how weird it was to leave when it was light outside, and how there was quite a bit more traffic than normal.  We were perky and well rested.

Thirty minutes later, I was feeling very anxious.  I kept watching the clock.  I kept accelerating more and more.  Finally, I admitted to my friend that I was feeling stressed about leaving so late.  She admitted that she was feeling the same way, and couldn't stop watching the clock.

85 MPH later, I was praying that I wouldn't get caught by a cop.  We made it to work in excellent time, and all was well.  But the fun was sucked right out of "Rebel Friday."  This is why I never did any majorly rebellious behaviors as a teen - I just couldn't do it!  I couldn't handle it!

I'm going to rename it "Fuddy Duddy Friday."