If one wanted to write about tardiness…

Memoir: If you were to say, “my mommy is a hoarder,” people would give the pity nod and pat your arm. “How hard that must be for you,” they’d say in sympathetic tones. But if you were to say, “my mommy is habitually late,” what response would you get? The pity not? The pity pat? Probably not. Because being late isn’t the end of the world, is it? -First line of 5 Minutes Too Late: A Memoir of My Unending Struggle with Tardiness.  

Academic Paper: Though many believe tardiness to be a laughable matter, fixable by setting watches five minutes ahead, it is, in reality, a chronic disease, one that plagues one out of six Americans every year.

Talk in Church: “Sorry, I was late. You wouldn’t believe the printers in this building. But the “wheat and the rye were not smitten, for they were not grown up.” Not sure what that means, but I think it’s saying even though I’m late, I shouldn’t be smitten.”

Fiction Novel: No one could miss a bus better than Jody. She was the unpunctual queen of barely missing all major and minor events in her life.

Science paper: The Chronic Lateness Syndrome or CLS is a frequent occurrence in college students under the age of 25. It manifests itself in Caucasian females with the hereditary disposition to habitual tardiness. Cures are yet unknown.

Pumped Up Fiction Sentence: When Jody missed the bus, it was an experience. Passengers on the B52 northbound brought their friends to watch, fingers pressed against the windows. The B52 left at 9:15 and Jody always came running at 9:15.5. She’d be shouting and tripping over her enormously long yellow scarf that always wrapped around her left leg like a baby giraffe neck. Mr. Caravagio, the bus driver loved watching Jody swear like a sailor from his rear view mirror. Her punctual pounding on the back of the bus while he pulled away onto Washington St was better than his ritual morning coffee.

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