Waiting

Is there anything worse in the world than waiting?

(Well, of course there is. We all know that. Just play along, 'kay?)

There is the hopeful, excited, pins and needles sort of waiting when a new baby is arriving in the world (literally or figuratively). And the hopeful, wary, let's-not-jinx-things, bargaining, superstitious sort of waiting when you're waiting to hear about a new job. Or when you've sent a piece of your heart (your fiction) out in the ether.

There's the half-nervous, half-fearful, half-impatient, half-pained (What? You only have two halves? Make some more up!) totally bored waiting in the dentist's office (unless, of course, you're a diligent flosser and your teeth are well-enamelled and your gums are not going berserk and your nerves are not throbbing and you've got a lovely book on your e-reader).

But there's nothing quite so dead and useless as waiting for the cable guy or the repairman or the plumber or a furniture delivery.

Today, for me, it's the phone company. My land lines have been deader than zombie doornails since the weekend. The jacks were pretty ancient and wobbly to begin with, and any knock of the Swifter or vacuum against them would make them go all wobbly and weird (not unlike that throbbing tooth that might have sent you to the dentist's waiting room), causing the lines that feed them to panic like cholesterol-laden arteries.

First, the static. Then, the copper and/or coaxial infarction. And death.

Oh, yeah. I'm sure my recent flood didn't help.

So today, the Verizon man (or woman) cometh.

Anywhere from 8:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m.

Well, that narrows it right down.

Can't leave. Can't really get involved in anything of any importance.

Have a great excuse to fiddle with the computer all day, though!

Someone please entertain me. But don't call.