The Stress of Waiting

I'm going berserk! My part-time job involves overseeing the carriers who deliver the Shopper adpapers. Normally, on Wednesdays, the papers arrive at my house between 8:00 and 8:30 in the morning. Sometimes they're as early as 7:20 and sometimes as late as 9:45. It is now 1:00 in the afternoon, and they're not here yet. The deal is that I am to drop everything as soon as the papers arrive and get them to the carriers.

So for the last five hours, I've been unable to be about my chores very well. Can't start a physics lesson because it's likely to be interrupted. Can't put the perma-press in the wash because I'll get called away and it will wrinkle. Can't make the bread because it will overrise when I have to leave to go to work. Can't get in the shower because I'll be interrupted. Can't curl up on the couch and read history to the kids because I'll have to stop in the middle of the chapter.

This is such piddly little stuff. And I'm rather disgusted with myself for how stressed out I am over this. There's just something, though, about having to be ready to go at a moment's notice when that moment is delayed and delayed and delayed. I keep thinking that there must be some insight here about the end of the church year and waiting for the Second Coming, but I sure ain't seein' it because, when Jesus returns, I won't care if the perma-press wrinkles or if the bread overrises!

If I didn't have to drive "any minute now," I'd take a nice shot of Southern Comfort -- on an empty stomach which would therefore be exceedingly mellowing because I haven't eaten yet, knowing that if I start eating I will, after all, be interrupted because I have to leave "any minute now." I guess I'll have to go drink some Rescue Remedy instead. I hate living life "on hold," even when it's just for a few hours.