So, patience seems to be a virtue needed in every walk (or roll) of life, and my patience is wearing thin. When Ken took the Raven to be repaired, I was feeling too ill to go with him. Big mistake number one. I also assumed it would not take seemingly forever to fix her. That was big mistake number two.
Normally, I can be a rather patient person.
I prefer my meals home cooked instead of micro-zapped.
I actually like the chilliness on winter mornings, when the furnace is turned way down and a fire has yet to be built. Then, I like to slowly thaw out in front of a blazing fire and later feel that robust warmth as it penetrates the entire house. (Unfortunately, we don’t have a woodstove any longer.)
I like the scratchy feel of graphite on paper. It is a tactile thing, an almost earthy sensation and an ever so slow process that typing at break-neck speeds cannot give the writer. It allows me to think about each word choice as I form my thoughts.
But then, I also like drawing with graphite. All that smudging and the emotional nuances one can add with deliberate fingers that she cannot get with keystrokes and CGI.
I prefer making things myself, rather than buying mass-produced junk. But if I do need to purchase something, I can be patient enough to wait for just the right one.
Surprises make me anxious, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t fun. I prefer to give rather than receive, but if I do receive, I like it to be on Christmas Morning, not on the Eve. And I enjoy watching others open their gifts before I even touch mine. That is where the joy is, in seeing the excitement of others.
Even though I can be patient in many aspects of my life, not having the Raven home is driving me crazy. I feel naked, or rather, the driveway looks naked without her. But the worst part is big mistake number three. I forgot to get some very important things out of the Raven before she left to be repaired. It seems every day I am saying, “oops, it’s in the RV,” about one thing or another.
My good fabric scissors are in the RV so I cannot finish the Roman shades. Besides, I forgot one vital measurement, so I cannot get any farther anyway.
A few weeks ago, I had a cup of hot tea explode on my belly. Unfortunately both the aloe gel and the big first aid kit were in the RV. Luckily the neighbor was there to help out.
On Thanksgiving, we were short a few of our usual serving bowls because I had needed them on our last trip and they never came back inside.
The list goes on and on.
And so does this waiting game.
Patience, darling, is all Ken can say for now. The Raven will be home soon.