Waiting

It's rainy and dark and cold. Ick. Winter is around the corner it's supposed to sleet tonight and I have to drive to work in the morning.

But, the kicker here is that my car is broken and sitting useless in the driveway.

The reason it's sat there for the last few days is that 1. it was too late when it died to go to a store and buy a new battery 2. Again, now, it's late and the store closes in two hours and my spouse who isn't going to be my spouse in a month went to a meeting and won't be back till late.

I sit bored, not really wanting to watch television because the offerings there are just quite pitiful, waiting. That's all I've been doing lately. Just waiting. Waiting for the people around me to wake. Waiting for me to wake up. Waiting for life to start again. Waiting to move on. Waiting on someone else to move on. Waiting to lambast another person who is waiting on the same reason I'm waiting.

Waiting is the worst waste of time, it's deconstructive and tears at the fabric of sanity. Gosh, I'm tired of waiting.

The worst part is that I'm not a great waiter. I hate it. When I want something done, it best well be done NOW, or even better yesterday. Life ceases when a person has to wait. So much actual life just floating by on the stream of time while I sit on the bank staring listlessly, wanting so much to jump in, and yet, being restrained by constraints not placed by myself, and yet, I'm adhering to them.

I'm being good; my eyes may be watering watching it all pass me by - watching others go zipping by without realizing I'm still sitting here - like I'm supposed to be and so should they.

I can see an end to the lazy stream - it's just right up ahead. All I have to do is walk a few unsteady and tentative steps to this great big yawning ocean where delicious waves and sunrises and sunsets await to capsize me into a new world where the waiting is of a better sort - the kind I want. And the kind that, hopefully, wants me.