Aug 7, 2016

The Waiting Game a.k.a. I Wonder - Part 11

     When you think about it, we spend most of our life waiting for something. At first the stuff we wait on is fun like when we wait for Santa to come, for the tooth fairy (or the tooth mouse in Slovenia) to bring us some cash, for some boobs to grow (our own or our classmates') or for school to end and summer to start, just to list a few, but eventually we're all stuck waiting in a waiting room at the doctor's, in a line at the bank, in a queue at the grocery store, in a car at a red light, at a station for the bus to arrive, on a plane for the damn thing to take off, etc etc. We're waiting behind counters, behind wheels, behind people — you name it, we wait there. And for someone who firmly believes in the wise words of it's now or never (and would actually rather have everything done yesterday because even now this very second is already too late) that is — and please keep in mind that this is an utter understatement — a fucking bitch.
     I actually thought about putting together a post on the bitchy topic several times already but in the end I always backed out of it and opted for something else because I didn't want to subject you to even more waiting — waiting for the post to come to an end. I mean, who would want to read a post about waiting? But this week's been an especially wait-prone one for me so I can't skirt this wretched waiting game in which life uses us like helpless little pawns any longer so here we are: after a week's worth of waiting I'm writing about waiting and even as I write this I think I'm breaking out in a rash thanks to WAITING.
     I have to admit, however, that not everything I had to wait for this past week was on the same level of irksomeness, some of the waiting was — despite it still being excruciating — quite reminiscent of those tooth-mouse boob-growing days because even though I had to wait in three hundred and seventy-two lines (give or take a few) I also spent the entire week counting down the days until the weekend when I finally had some time to devote myself to a little pet project of mine involving this, a toolbox, some sandpaper and several cans of pain. But unfortunately, as I already mentioned, the rest of the waiting was fucking annoying as I was forced to wait at a bus station, a few grocery and other stores, a post office, a vet's office, several gas stations, a bank, a restaurant and in a traffic jam (amounting to a hundred and eighteen hours of waiting in just five days, thus leaving me with a total of two hours to eat, sleep and work basically), but by far the most mind-boggling was my wait at the florist's. Here's what happened.
     Like I said in the previous post, I adore summer because some of my favorite people have their birthdays and this week was my mom's turn so a trip to the florist's was inevitable. Walking up to the shop, I was fully prepared to wait, I was fully prepared to stand in a line because that's what we humans do after all: we've evolved so we can politely wait in lines — and then die. So imagine my surprise when I entered the shop and there was no customer in sight. At first I thought Score! but when I called out, "Hello?" and looked behind the counter that score started to lose its promising luster: not only were there no customers, there also wasn't a soul working in the damn joint. So I thought to myself Fuck it, I'll just wait — how long could they be gone anyway?
     I'll tell you how long: pretty damn long. After a number of minutes — spent pacing the shop and cursing under my breath — and waiting in vain, I finally had it and I walked back to my car deciding to just go to a different flower shop. And guess what — when I drove to the other side of the town, I found the shop closed. "Due to summer vacation, we're closed from August 1st till August 7th." Well, fuck you very much.
     I stormed back to the car cursing anything but under my breath all the way to the parking lot and zoomed off to the first flower shop again — and this time there actually was somebody working the counter.
     "Hello!" chirped the florist, smiling ear to ear and idly putting together a bouquet.
     "Where were you?"
     That damn smile was gone in a nanosecond. "I went to go grab a cup of coffee."
     "Yes, just around the corner. How can I help you?"
     Who the fuck leaves a store unattended to go grab a cup of coffee around the corner?! "Being here would be nice. You're lucky the other shop's closed for the week otherwise I'd never come back but I need some flowers asap."
     "Splendid. What kind?"
     Seriously? She was either too sly or too dense for my liking but either way, I wanted to rip her head off. I didn't though and told her what I needed instead. She gave me the flowers and a discount and I told her to keep the change.
     She took the coins in turn and said grinning yet again, "That's so I can go grab a cup of coffee, right?"
     "Exactly!" I said and burst into laughter. That was funny, flower shop lady, I'll give you that.
     So at the end of the day, my little flower hunt turned out to be a somewhat amusing experience and I didn't even mind all the waiting this week because I'd found a way to pass the time: I simply let my mind frivolously wander down all the back alleys I usually don't have time to indulge myself in which usually just leads to me wondering why picking your nose and eating your boogers in public (or in private for that matter!) is so frowned upon, for example. Or:

Is Ebony and Ivory zebras' favorite song?

How come boobs sag despite the bra?

What's the deal with New York and apples, big apples?

 Where do all the socks go? No, really, where do they go?
Because I see them going in the washing machine and some I don’t ever see coming out.

If mosquitoes like to bite you, does that mean you have good blood or bad blood?
Or it just means that they don't like you?

If you're drunk and a mosquito bites you, does she get drunk too?

Is a nectarine actually a Brazilian peach?

     Nothing life changing, as you can see, but at least I'm doing something while waiting instead of mindless staring at my phone or at the back of the neck of the person before me wishing he or she would evaporate. I could, of course, do something even more productive and bring a book with me wherever I go, I heard people do that, but you know what? I don't have the heart to leave all those zebras and dogs and boobs stranded in the back alleys of my brain. They took Santa and the tooth mouse away, but I'm not giving those too, fuck it.

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