It’s only natural that waiting for the things that really matter to us is so painfully done. There are plenty of things I don’t care about that I have no trouble waiting for. Dental visits, for one. Increases in the price of gasoline, for two. A most definite three would be waiting for Hastur to use the litterbox (or the carpet, as the case may be; disgusting animal).
I’m generally very patient. I worry, but that’s not the same as being impatient. There are similarities, true, and the two can certainly be joined together. I’d be a complete emotional wreck if I were both worried and impatient all at the same time. My wife would probably take my life in some agonizing, mediaeval manner. Garroting me while I fitfully slept, for instance.
So there’s all this vague talk about me waiting patiently. For what, you ask?
As is often the case, mum is the word on certain things. This is one of them. Were I you, reading this post, I’d likely find myself totally annoyed with it. I don’t feel bad about baring my soul, expressing my pain to the world, but even I have secrets. I am contractually obliged to keep most of them under my hat. The other 10% are more personal than I’d rather reveal. At least they don’t involve major surgery of any kind.
Unrelated: I’ve been reading George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones. What a doorstop of a book, but it’s well-written. I’m finally getting the characters straight, more often than not.
Also, I heard from a fellow gamer on one of the local RPG boards that my name is, indeed, gracing the cover of Complete Champion. That’s great, says I. I have yet to see the book, much less hold it in my sweaty hands. Yet another of the many things I’m waiting for. It’s important, yes, but I’m not losing sleep over Complete Champion. As if I have that much sleep to lose these days.