sorry i'm late

i'm late.
the story of my life.
every time i decide to get something done, time steps in and takes a nice long wizz all over my plans. this happens so often that i wonder if time is really an old man afflicted with a bladder so weak that it hangs by a string.
my friends, family and a few strangers that would bother to take time out to pass judgement, all know about my continuous conflict with time. they carefully jot down the many instances where time has stood victorious over my beaten down body relieving himself on occasion.
"wear a watch for heaven's sake!" they scream and drooble on. Why? I don't see the need to be time's door mat. I'm quite happy being his diaper thank you.
sigh... the story of my life....
i'm late.