Tick, tick, tick …

I hate waiting.

I suppose everyone does but most folks handle it so much better than I do; at least that’s how I see it.  I will not do something I really want to do, rather than stand in line.

Sunday morning, for example, I stepped across the street to the little neighborhood bakery that makes the best garlic sourdough bread and bran muffins I have ever tasted.

Did I mention that the muffins are soaked in honey?  Uh huh. But the line was out the door and down the block, and so I passed on my muffins and settled for toast and jam.

I wish I had more patience.

As a writer, it is a definite shortcoming.  Right now, I have a dozen stories out there, making the rounds, and I just added another three to the mix.  And the responses are so slow coming back.

Don’t these people know I am waiting?  Don’t they know how much I hate to do that?  And there’s not a thing I can do but sit and fidget and write more stories.

Some days I think that even rejection is better than waiting.

I am reminded of the old cartoon of two vultures perched on a dead tree limb.   Nothing is moving around them and one is saying to the other:  I don’t want to wait anymore.  Let’s kill something!

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