I have always had problems with punctuality, ever since I was in school. I remember being meted out different kinds and levels of punishment for being tardy (standing outside the class for an hour, a jog around the school playground, a dressing down by the school principal) -- and it doesn't seem to me that any of it has made any shred of difference to my innate nature.
Of course what is cute and cuddly in school is actually quite off-putting and unsexy as an adult. People make the most blood-curling faces, and trash you in the most explicitly embarassing terms for wasting their valuable time.
My father, for one, as long as he was alive, never missed a chance to let me know how I never had any sense of time. As if the fourth dimension never existed for me, that is.
Then how does one be on time? In an age of distractions and constant crises and temptations, how does one maintain fidelity with the stoically marching hands of the Great Merciless Timekeeper?
A thoroughly intractable problem.