Day 296
If these posts were printed, I could say, “No sooner had the ink begun to dry than …”
But there is no ink … it is merely an illusion of ink. Cyber-ink I guess I’ll call it. So …
No sooner had the cyber-ink post about “Slowing down” begun to dry than I was in my car doing errands in a hurry and out of my mind with impatience.
The Chicago area is doing little to quell my road rage. Everyone here is old and slow. I mean REALLY old and REALLY slow.
I was in a shopping center parking lot today behind, I’m sure, Moses’ Grandfather. Yes, that Moses. As I sat in my car wafting between losing it and putting my car in park and asking the guy if he needed help, a little voice whispered in my ear … “Patience, my dear, patience.”
It wasn’t my voice … but whomever’s voice it was, it calmed me down a bit. But as I sat there watching this guy trying to park his land yacht I looked around me and realized I was probably the youngest person in that parking lot at 3pm on a Monday afternoon.
These people trudging around made my parents, who are 84, look like Spring Chickens … they made me look practically fetal!
On one hand I wanted to applaud their efforts for being out and about. I imagine it’s not easy moving around when you’re 300 years old. On the other hand I wanted to shout out, “Get out of the way!” “Move your butt!” “Drive much, dumbsh*t!” “Arrrrgh!”
Finally the man got his car parked but I didn’t have another half an hour to watch him get out of it and see how old he really was, so I drove down the row and parked and was probably in and out of the store before the guy made it out of his car.
For 33 years I lived in a young city. Denver is (comparatively)young having been established in 1867 but it’s the population that is young – with half of its one million people being under 34 years of age. Where I was this afternoon the median age is 47. Big difference.
In any case … I’ve got patience on my holiday list this year. I probably should have it on my list every year because, at times (more than I’d care to admit), I don’t have much. My wick is short. My temper fast.
Yes, mild-mannered me! But only when driving. And in lines. And …
I’ve known about this little impatience problem for quite some time now. When Ted was little – about 3 – he was sitting up on the big bed one morning as I was getting dressed and he was playing with his fake car steering wheel toy. It was something that fit over his legs and had the steering wheel and a horn and some buttons and levers on it. Quite fun! And as I’m washing up I was watching him as I could see him in the bathroom mirror. And as he sat there playing “driving”, to my horror – he waved his arm out in front of him and shouted, “Do you drive much dumbsh*t?”
Hilarious but horrifying. And he was much more polite than I ever was … I never asked it as a question. Out of the mouth of babes. I should have learned then.
Ah, patience my dear, patience.