Wandering while we wait
when will we welcome what we want?
Why will we wait?
Whatever’s worth wanting will willingly wait.
I came up with that alliterative little piece of prose while trying to attack this idea of “waiting” in writing this blog post. I want to make a series of posts that fall under the heading of waiting, because waiting is what is behind a lot of the themes of this blog. The main source of angst driving me through life is questions of waiting… Should I wait? … For how long?…Will I ignore something worthwhile as I stubbornly wait for something else?…. Why does everybody else not seem to wait, or at least not wait for long?…Why do I hold myself back?… Why do other forces hold me back?…And so on, and so on.
If the above is “passively waiting”, then I must add that I am always “actively waiting” as well. I don’t know why people take so long to do things. I am a bit impatient (snort! snarf! giggle), but seriously… we are always waiting in this life and some of us handle it better than others.
The love of my life kept me waiting for six years before he was ready for this relationship, we won’t get into the reasons why at the moment. And he still keeps me waiting to this day. Appearance-wise, he is a low-maintenance dude: buzz cut, cotton t-shirts and jeans for the wardrobe. When we need to leave the house it should be 10-minute shower, deodorant, teeth, and go, right? No!
It’s those things and then putter around the house doing random stuff, some of which is more necessary than others, for twice as long as the actual getting ready took. I wait to get dressed until he has already started. I’ll then sit on the couch, ready except for shoes, and play with my phone. When he takes his shoes, I take mine. He goes back to the desk to grab his things, and I stand at the door with keys in hand. When I’ve waited so long in that position that I’m about to stick said keys in my eye, we leave. Then, when we are out, I am still always waiting for him to leave so we could go home.
Back in my single days, I was always the designated driver. Reason number one is that I’m not much of a drinker. But the real reason is that I wanted to be in control. Even when going shopping or something, I drove because I wanted to decide when to arrive, how long to wait, when to leave, etcetera. Even now, when I go out socially or meet my family somewhere, I insist on having my own car so I could go when I’m tired of waiting.
Being a wife-type person (not on paper yet, but WAITING), and a mom-type person (not really, but WAITING) I have people with me that have to have some say in the matter now. I no longer get to shout “The car is leaving in 3 minutes, whether you are in it or not!” because they are coming home with me. And if I left ’em, I would just have to go back and get ’em.
I wouldn’t change it for anything, but I really wish I wasn’t always waiting.