Time-biding with gourds

My new therapist

Nearly ten years ago I stood on a train platform in Europe with three of my best buddies. We had spent a couple of weeks going from London to Amsterdam to Paris to London to Inverness and back to London. During this time, we rode on a lot of trains (and one very tilty overnight ferry across the North Sea). Anyone who has lived or traveled outside of the United States knows that getting around isn’t always as simple as hopping in your Civic and zipping down to the beach. Trains are on schedules and schedules are meant to fall apart.

During this time, we four travelers (and this was back in the day when we could afford to be travelers instead of tourists) spent a lot of time waiting on trains. Back then, I was fond of sitting back on the cold mental benches and declaring, “I like to wait.”

My buddies protested over and over again, and would continue to protest as I re-affirmed my waiting tolerance for the next several years.

It would be several years before I realized that, in fact, I don’t like to wait nearly as much as I thought I did. Right now, I’m stuck in a hamster-wheel of waiting that I have no power to control. I’ve done all I can do. Now, I can’t do much but sit back and wait. While not entirely taxing physically, it’s a strain on the noodle.

Yesterday, I found comfort in the tedious task of creating (with my family) my new waiting pal, Oh-no Jack.

Nope. Don’t like to wait anymore.