“I’m late / I’m late / For a very important date. / No time to say “Hello, Goodbye”. / I’m late, I’m late, I’m late.” White Rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll

Lewis Carroll’s classic novel has always been one of my favorite children’s books, and I often dreamed of being Alice, falling down a rabbit hole, and meeting the Chesire Cat and the Mad Hatter.. I never realized until recently that I wasn’t Alice.  I was the White Rabbit.

My epiphany came on Rosh Hashanah, while I dashed around getting ready to leave for shul.  My husband, who was unable to attend services due to recent leg surgery, commented on the fact that I was still trying to leave at 10 am, an hour after services began. “You’re running late,” he commented. “You seem to be doing that a lot lately.”

Initially I was going to make some snide remark about how taking care of his needs as well as all the household responsibilities that he had not been able to do as a result of his surgery had contributed to my problem.  I, being the good wife, bit my tongue and headed out to shul.

As I spent time in synagogue reflecting on my morning rush, however, I realized that my lateness was not limited to those last few weeks.  Friends had been left waiting at restaurants, movie theaters, and book stores, with a quick telephone call from me saying, “I’m running a little late! I should be there in ten or fifteen minutes.” And this had been going on for a while.

The irony in this situation is that I have always been the Calendar Queen. For years, I lugged around a Franklin Planner, meticulously writing down every appointment and writing elaborate To-Do lists.   I was always the person given responsibility for event planning and date tracking.  For at least twenty years, I have been secretary of my book club.  If anyone needs to know what book we are reading, or which member is hosting, or what date we are meeting, I am the person.  Now that I have moved from the Franklin Planner to the electronic version, I drive Larry crazy with all the dings and beeps and twills that signal an upcoming event.  It’s just that all these reminders don’t get me out the door when it is necessary. To paraphrase Marilyn Monroe, “I’ve been with a calendar, but I’ve never been on time!”

Lateness was not an issue for many years.  For my twenty-five years of teaching, I was in my classroom on time, and I became impatient with the stragglers.  It was when I moved out of the classroom into an administrative position that my ability to be on time became a question.

My new job required that I wear many hats:  I was responsible for public relations, institutional research, grant writing, special events, as well as any “duties as assigned.”  Although I enjoyed what I did, my job often required that I multi-task; as a matter of fact, my boss felt strongly that the ability to handle numerous balls in the air was a sign of a good administrator.  As a result, I got into the habit of not only working on numerous projects at one time, but also switching quickly from one task to another. (Do you hear the sounds of balls bouncing?)  In order to handle the myriad of responsibilities, I also found myself trying to complete just one more thing.  As a result, I was always sweeping into a meeting a couple of minutes late. Of course, since everyone I worked with was also trying to multitask, I was not always the last one in conference room.  Larry also noticed it on the home front, as my necessity to finish up something resulted in my coming home one or two hours late.

These bad habits carried into my personal life, and even when I retired, I still found myself trying to squeeze in “one more thing” before heading out the door. Whether it be making that one phone call or checking Facebook or finishing my Cryptoquote, I often was running late, just like that proverbial White Rabbit in Wonderland. Which was where I was on that Rosh Hashanah morning.

So I decided then and there that I would start the new year with the resolution to improve my track record for promptness. I would stop multi-tasking, No last minute phone calls. No checking emails. No last minute laundry folding. No, the new me would be showered, dressed, ready, and packed up ten minutes before any estimated time of departure.

Or not.  Despite best intentions, it doesn’t always work out.  I can try my best, but life does get in the way.  Recently, I was heading out the door to the YMCA when my brother and sister-in-law called, and we chatted until I begged off, saying I had to get out the door. Pulling the car out of the garage, I realized it had started snowing, which meant it took twice as long to make the four-mile trip to the Y. Once I got there, I ran into Tim, who caught me up on his winter running woes, and Lily, who shared with me that she was celebrating the holidays with her children from Chicago.I finally got on to the elliptical, and it took me about five minutes to untangle the wires on my earbuds.  I had to cut my ride short to make it to class, which, because of the snow, was comprised of the instructor and four brave souls. OK. I tried! And I did get to class on time, unlike the unfortunate woman who showed up at 11:55 (Friday start time) for our 11:30 am Tuesday class, a feat I had pulled myself on a few occasions.

One of the advantages-or maybe disadvantages-of being Jewish is that we have two opportunities a year to make resolutions: our sacred Rosh Hashanah and our secular New Year’s Day.   So, for the secular New Year, my resolution is to continue working on the promise I made to myself this past September to be on time.  Whoops! look at the clock!  Need to cut this short to get to the Y for an 11 o’clock spinning clas……

A version of this article originally appeared in the Jewish World News, a bi-weekly subscription-based newspaper in upstate New York.