In the photos below, I am waiting happily for a ticket agent who will never come, and preparing to cross a body of water famous for its fast current on a boat called The Rowdy Woman…
     I have to be honest.  I’m not very patient.  I’m the kind of person who puts Jon Jon’s cut n’ bake macadamia nut/white chocolate cookies in the oven and then KEEPS OPENING the door obsessively to check on them.  They end up burnt on the bottom but soggy in the middle every time. 

     Add a few drinks to the mix and I am a harridan with a pinched mouth and dash of virago for emphasis.  You get my drift?  I once (after a two-glass-of-wine lunch) berated a check-out woman at WALMART, for having to call for a price check on the plastic Easter eggs I was trying to buy without a barcode.  This is the kind of irony you can’t make up.   I guess I expected her to have memorized the inventory codes for the zillions of products, to make my Walmart experience a fast and pleasant one.  My children, who were young then, were mortified and skulked away – pretending to look at magazines and racks of Tic-Tacs – their little shoulders slumped by the unfairness of it all…  I know I was being really mean, but I couldn’t help myself.

     There is something ugly and superior about impatience. 

     For some reason, now that I’ve stopped drinking, I have lost the need to hurry quite as much.  And when I’m in the Bahamas, if it’s not too hot, I’ll wait all day people.  Just don’t test me at a busy commercial airport, or ever make me go to a Super-Walmart again.  Please.

Today I’m not drinking because: I’m taking it slow and easy.

How come you’re not drinking?