Timing is interesting. Timing is also supposedly everything, and while I used to question that concept, more and more lately I’m starting to believe it.
The 30 seconds it takes me to find my gloves before going out the door is the difference between getting to work on time or 5 minutes late. Looking up at exactly the right moment makes the difference between seeing a full moon and viewing a dark sky full of clouds. Dating the right person during the wrong period of your life can be the difference between matrimony and spinsterhood. Leaving the frozen food in the oven too long is the difference between a delicious dinner and a ruined feast.
I think you get the picture. And last night, while I enjoyed La Tarte Flambée, I couldn’t help thinking that the timing was off. For one thing, I was the only one of my friends who didn’t get to enjoy happy hour at the bar next door beforehand. I had to rush from work to get there on time (and then had to wait for my friends to arrive). After dinner, I didn’t get to take an easy 10 minute walk home like I would have if I still lived on the Upper East Side. I was so tired from work that I resented that it took literally a half hour to figure out the bill (probably the first time ever I didn’t care if it was split evenly). Throughout dinner, while the food was good and I was glad to see my friends, all I could think was that I would rather be relaxing at home by myself.
Or okay, not really by myself, but until I stumble upon the right timing with the right person, I’ll take my own company for now.
Sure, I burn chicken nuggets and can’t find my gloves, but I also give a full moon the appropriate appreciation, and that’s an important quality in someone I spend my time with.