I am currently reading Margaret Atwood's short stories.
A book called Bluebeard's Egg.
In one story, entitled Hurricane Hazel, Atwood is speaking of her fictional character (or perhaps herself) being dropped off by her boyfriend just after curfew....
...I got into the habit of coming in after the deadline, and my father would sit me down and explain very patiently that if I was on my way to catch a train and I was late for it, the train would go without me, and that was why I should always be on time. This cut no ice with me at all, as I would point out, our house was not a train. It must have been then that I began to lose faith in reasonable argument as the sole measure of truth.
Have a great Thursday!