I’ve been waiting all day.
Although I do understand this task is not arduous or physically challenging,
it is a huge undertaking for me. I’m
impatient. There, I've said it. I’m not proud of it. It’s just the way I’m wired. I am working on it.
It started this morning. I’m waiting for the heating guys
who need to come to the house and jump-start or kick the oil furnace and get it
going again. We arrived in Farmville at
10:30 this AM after a weekend in EC, only to discover the climate in the house
was a bit chilly….the thermostat reading 57 cool ones. After several phone
calls, I was assured that the fellows would be out straight away. I’m still waiting. It’s 3:00.
The waiting spills over into Faye waiting. Well, maybe she’s no longer actually waiting
for me. We were supposed to walk the
dogs at noon. Poor Woody. He’s waiting too….to doo…doesn’t get any
worse than that.
Now I’m waiting for John to call. His once a week phone call is always
anticipated and much appreciated. I so
look forward to catching up and touching base with him. I can’t call him. The calls only go one way. One can see (maybe understand) how anxious I
become when the call is late…or doesn’t come through at all. Did I mention I’m impatient?
Now that today has gotten all backed up, I have yet to get
to the grocery. Tonight’s dinner is on
the back burner…(pun intended). When
George gets home at 7:00 or so, he’ll be ready to eat. Darnest thing is, when I explain the day,
with all its setbacks and WAITING; how
dinner isn’t ready, how I had to improvise with my can of northern white beans…he
won’t be impatient at all. Why is that?
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