I'm always eight minutes late to work, not because I can't get it together on time but, simply because all my clocks are conveniently eight minutes slow. Most other people I know would just change their clocks or mentally add the eight minutes and arrive on time. ( As I do for everything except work) Not me. It relates to my whole mind-set. If I change all my clocks forward those eight precious minutes, I just might find myself arriving on time every day and losing more than just eight simple minutes. Although, I know I won't arrive on time, because I actually arrived on time one day.
             I changed all my clocks forward by eight minutes and found that I really don't enjoy being to work on time. The complete eight minutes that I was now given to work left me thinking about all of the things I could have accomplished before rushing through the door to crowds of people, most of them saying "dam," and finding it terribly funny.
             Eight minutes later, I rush in the door three to four afternoons a week and appreciate those few extra minutes I had to collect myself before plunging into the chaos that reins. The locals never fail to ask how I am. I always say "good," whether that's true or not. They always respond with a simple "good" and go back to their coffee which is always hot, though not entirely fresh. No one complains, they just pick up the newspaper that's lying on the counter, used and rumpled; search through the stack, create a little more disarray in a place that's already quite disarrayed and gives a little smile or chuckle every time some young child or tourist bellows "dam," simply because they can in a place called The Dam Diner.
             All afternoon people come pouring into the diner, rapidly blinking from the lack of light, oohing and aahing over the combination of 40s and rustic Vermont decor. When they regain consciousness, begin reciting every joke they can think of involving the word "dam." The combination of cheesy
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