How to exit one’s lair, hair flying, with great flair

Drawn on my years of observation of how my spouse has perfected this artful undertaking, viz.:

“Do not rush me, Time!
I need you to slow down
right now on the dime!
Just pulling on my gown!”

“I need you to wait!”
Her cheeks all flush
“I’m lavishly late
in frantic rush!”

By now Perfected Exit
after starting out slow
builds momentum til hectic
Now that’s a fire works show!

Steadily recurring drama
mere minutes til dressed from pajama
While to others would cause trauma
mere swift smooth routine for Grande Mama!

Plays out like a scorcher
with dashing deporture.

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-deporture = deportment: demeanor; conduct
-Time = to others inexorable while to my spouse time ought to instantly expand or contract perfectly synchronized to her shifting needs. Now that can’t be too much to ask for, can it?!