I knew today was going to be a doozy. I thought that maybe - just maybe - since the focus on patience day came on a Saturday, it wouldn't be so bad. I was wrong.
As you may know (from last week's column), sleeping in is my number one priority on a Saturday. If you have kids, you probably want to hit me right now and make some remark about how that will be a thing of the past once I have kids. I know. I've heard. (and heard...and heard...and heard.) But the thing is - I don't have kids right now. So I sleep. And sleep. And sleep.
This morning I was just thinking of stirring - not quite yet to the eye opening part of stirring, but awake - when I got a text message. Was I up? Uh...no, but sorta. Angela wanted to stop by and use my sewing machine. I told her that would be fine and was about to tell her that she'd be greeted by my bedhead when she got here, but just then the phone rang. It was Amber. Would my house be available later if she needed to stop by for a couple of minutes with her kids? Sure!!
So that meant I was up. Up and taking a shower - and making the bed - and cleaning out the litter box. For a few short minutes, I grumbled under my breath. It's Saturday. It's not even 11. It's my day to sleep. No one should be up at this time.
Love is patient.
Gulp. Yes it is. Okay. Refocusing. So then came the bout with the sewing machine. I only sew about twice a year, so each time, I have to get out the instructions to see how to wind the bobbin and thread the machine. As I worked...and worked...and worked...and messed up...and messed up...and messed up, I muttered to Angela, "I got the award in Home Ec, you know." She said to me, "You did?" "Well yes....in Human Development. Clearly this is why I didn't get it in sewing."
But love is patient, so I worked my way through that delay without punching the machine.
And then I went to Wal-Mart.The trip where the lady in the pink shorts (who should not have been wearing shorts) walked way too slowly down the aisle and because of the busyness of the store, I was stuck behind her. Love is patient with her outfit and her speed. The trip where people didn’t know that you should always walk to the right of the aisle. Love is patient with people who make you move to sides of the aisle that you principally object to using. The trip where people insisted on walking slowly down the center of the parking lot aisle and also blocking prime parking spots with doors hanging open on vehicles and carts being unloaded. Love is patient in a place where driving should be slow anyway and it wouldn’t kill you to walk from the far end of the lot.
Following that, there was the trip to the Dollar Tree, where I contended with two young mothers and their combination of five children. The kids were loud and all over the store, and the mothers used less than appropriate language in correcting them. Love is patient with kids who don’t know any better because clearly their parents are not teaching them any better. And then there was the line behind me as I checked out – the line that grew with no other cashiers to help shorten it because the two remaining employees chose that time to have a rather heated argument one aisle over. Love is patient with the cashier I have who is doing her best to take care of my shopping as quickly as she can.
Love is patient. And at heart, I am not. But I'm learning.
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