I have no patience. Waiting is tiresome. And it stops forward motion. I have been waiting for weeks now to move, every week bringing the promise of action. And then, just as the plane makes its way onto the runway, the engines drop off. Back to the hanger for repairs.
This week, I think, we’re going to move in. Or so I’ve been told. But I grow weary of empty promises. I’m in an abusive relationship with an unfinished carriage house and my contractor is the enabler. What one must endure to get beautiful things and an inhabitable living space!
I’m also waiting for some packages in the mail. Waiting for weeks now. I’m waiting to open up a bed and breakfast. Waiting for temperatures to unfreeze themselves. My life, and I’m guessing a lot of other people’s lives, is full of waiting. So what are we to do?
We embrace the present. And we hold dear the here and now. I guess waiting, in the short term, can be exciting. The promise of something new. Anticipation can be a wonderful thing. But as time moves on, it becomes annoying. That wonderful anticipation morphs into anger. And what was once the promise of something new, turns into an annoyance.
This week will be THE week! I face the end of January with the steely determination of Scarlett O’Hara and the small feet of Frodo Baggins. And next week, when I’m complaining about how nothing has changed, I can only hope the stewardess has given me the whole can of diet coke.