The 12-Second Commute That Isn't 12 Seconds

It's A Time Dilation Field

I work from home. My commute is 12 seconds. Bedroom to desk. No traffic. No train delays. No roadworks.

I somehow manage to be late.

The mathematics don’t add up.

My first meeting is at 9:00 AM. I wake up at 8:47. Thirteen minutes.

That’s plenty of time, right? That’s 780 seconds. I only need twelve of them to get to work.

But here’s what actually happens:

• 8:47 - Wake up

• 8:53 - Coffee (non-negotiable)

• 8:58 - Find a shirt that doesn’t look like I slept in it (I did, but it shouldn’t look like I did)

• 8:59 - Brush teeth because morning breath transmits through screens

• 9:02 - Finally sit down, realise laptop is in the other room

• 9:04 - Join the meeting apologising for “technical difficulties”

The technical difficulty is me.

Why is it that people who commute an hour to work are somehow less late than I am? They have to account for traffic, weather, and public transportation that runs on vibes and prayer. Legitimate obstacles.

I have twelve seconds and a hallway.

And yet they’re sitting at their desks at 8:55, coffee in hand, looking professional and prepared.

Meanwhile, I’m frantically checking if I’m wearing pants, typing “Sorry, connection issues!” in the chat.

Of course my connection is fine.

The issue is that I thought I could make coffee, find my notebook, and check the news in the three minutes I had left.

Time moves differently when working from home, at least mine does. Twelve seconds should be twelve seconds. But somehow those twelve seconds expand into a black hole that swallows entire minutes.

Where did the time go? What happened in that hallway? Did I accidentally enter a temporal anomaly? Is my apartment built on some kind of time-dilating architecture?

No. I just stopped to check my phone. Twice. Then I remembered I should feed the cat. Then the cat wanted attention.

Then I was late.

I’ve even tried setting multiple alarms.

Alarms to wake up, alarms to get out of bed, alarms to remind me I have a meeting, alarms to tell me I’m already late to the meeting I just reminded myself about.

My phone sounds like a crisis centre now. A symphony of failure.

I’ve even considered sleeping at my desk. Eliminating the commute entirely. Just wake up, open my eyes, and I’m already at work. Zero-second commute. Surely I can’t be late then.

But I know myself. I’d still somehow contrive to be late.

What’s spooky is that I’m always punctual for everything else.

Doctor’s appointments? Early.

Meeting friends? Ten minutes ahead of schedule.

Catching a flight? At the gate before boarding even opens.

But working from home is my nemesis!

It’s become my brand now. People expect it. They’ve built it into their mental scheduling. “Oh, he’ll be with us in a few minutes. And they’re right. That’s exactly how I am.

I should probably wrap this up. I have a meeting in two minutes.

I’m definitely going to be late.