The Waiting Room again. And again.
I sit in a waiting room.
Four walls, me and my laptop.
It’s quiet. I remembered a post I had written on this subject a year or so ago.
I pulled it up and reread it — questioning — has anything changed in 18 months?
I ended that earlier post with this:
No more waiting rooms for me.
Well, except this one…because it really is a waiting room and not a metaphor for a woman treading water in a mid-life cliche.
How about you?
* * *
A light perky question. To suggest motivation for myself. And others.
So no more waiting rooms for me. Hmm. Has that been true since April 2012?
I certainly don’t feel I’m waiting in the sense of sitting still.
No. That’s not right either.
So much of life washes over me. Or I get swept up in the current of every day.
The alarm goes off. I hit the snooze and then when I can’t hit the snooze any longer — the day takes off. In track shoes.
So why does it feel like I’m still waiting? On pause.
Maybe I need to figure out the direction I want to head — and start straining against the current?
What about you?
