Late

I honestly can not remember the last time Dave and I were on time for something. You would think we have no idea what this is: 

And truth be told. We know what it is, we just don't know how to use it, correctly.

We've been late for more things than I care to admit to. I have honestly missed my cousin's entire wedding ceremony and only made it to the reception because of our late antics. Sorry cousin. 

I don't think we've ever made it to church before they closed the doors on us, either. We're awful, y'all!

 Dave is probably late for work 4 out of 5 mornings and I'm equally as guilty, although I don't exactly have a classroom full of kids waiting on me to arrive to work, in my defense.

We can both tell time. We both own watches. We both have a cell phone with the time clearly displayed on the screen for us. But you would think we were using a clock like this!

You see, I don't even try anymore. The more I try to get us out the door with ample time for an on time arrival, the later we are. FAIL. My husband is the worst time manager in the world. He thinks he has super man powers sometimes and attempts to shave, shower, iron clothes, check the weather, get dressed, pack his bag for practice, and walk out the door in a mere 20 minutes after he stood up out of bed. Now I don't like to bust any one's chops (okay, I lied about that) but it is a fact that this simply can not be done. Trust me, he's been trying to master it for 10 years.

So there, I said it. We're late. Always.

Hello, my name is Charlee and I suck at being on time.


And just because it melts my heart to see this I have to include my hubs and my pup.
I snuck this cell phone pic in while Dave was napping with Bronx when he was recovering from surgery.