Paperwork: OK, let’s all set our watches, then we can begin our day

“Someone’s coming.”

That’s a little voice inside my head. Keeps me plugged in to my schedule. Today I’m reminded that Mike is picking me up.

He’ll be here at 11:30 a.m. then we’ll head out for lunch. Our routine.

The clock tells me I have a few hours. Great. I can play on my computer, catch up on email, stuff like that. I can use the time wisely … but I keep hearing that voice.

“Someone’s coming … at 11:30.”

I am in waiting mode. Trying to concentrate, but it’s hard. I watch the clock tip-toeing toward 11:30.

At 11 a.m. I get edgy. I have 30 minutes but I find myself jumping up from my chair whenever a car goes by. I decide to set up what I will need to walk out the door when he pulls in the drive.

By 11:15 I’m at the window watching. Alert. Tick, tick, tock. Tick, tick, tock. I will be ready.

Welcome to my world … me in waiting mode when someone is coming or I must be somewhere at a designated time. I feel the countdown, pulled and pushed by the clock hands.

My time is always measured ahead. I know how long it will take to get there … and be at least 10 minutes early. So I know exactly when to leave.

I endure moments of torture before I leave, watching the clock edge closer to the starting gun. Again, I’m standing and staring – not out the window but at the clock.

If I have an appointment early the next day, I go to bed prepared. I set an alarm and wrestle with sleep. I always wake before the alarm. Still, the clock kicks me out of bed.

Waiting pressure is the worst when I’m dealing with a service call. You know the kind. They are coming but the time is unclear. They will text maybe 30 minutes ahead.

This puts my day into a deep freeze. My eyes are on my computer screen, my fingers are tapping the keyboard, but my ears are tuned to every vehicle outside. I crack my window to hear better.

Even when I plan to mow the lawn in the late afternoon, I feel the pressure – the need to get it done now so I can focus on things I want to do. It’s a nag-nag-nag on my day.

I am not sure where this dance with time comes from. Truth is … I have become my mother. I think about her whenever I find myself staring out the window, ready and waiting.

Whenever I was picking up Mom I knew she’d be standing in her open garage waiting – at least 15 minutes earlier. I had better be on time. I’d pull in and see her standing there, scarf on her head and purse looped over her arm. Ready. Always.

Now my oldest son is telling me he is the same way. Gads. Maybe it is hereditary.

Somebody please tell me all this is normal.

• Lonny Cain, retired managing editor of The Times in Ottawa, also was a reporter for The Herald-News in Joliet in the 1970s. His Paperwork email is lonnyjcain@gmail.com. Or mail The Times, 110 W. Jefferson St., Ottawa, IL 61350.