The average person spends at least 3 years of their life waiting. That ends up being about 62 minutes a day in a 70 year life.
That seems like a really low estimate.
I spend all day waiting for my husband to get home. I spend about 30 minutes most days waiting for my perpetually late ex-husband to show up with my daughter. I wait in grocery store lines. I wait at red lights. I wait for the mail man. I wait for Chloe to get dressed, to go to the bathroom, to eat her dinner. I wait for the baby to wake up. I wait for the baby to go to sleep. I wait for paint to dry, or glue to dry. I wait in stores to check out. I wait for dinner to cook.
I think nearly all of my life is spent waiting, in one way or another. Isn't that terrible?
And waiting makes me irritable.
Today is Sunday. Andrew is working yet again. The only good part of that is that it might get us out of going to his parents' house this evening if he's out late. I'll spend a good portion of the day at my parents' house, having breakfast and just hanging out.
I need to get another ball of yarn for my Monkey socks. I have about 20 flippin' rows left of knitting, and I'm out of yarn. Oooh, that irks me! I made these socks to use up the taupe Paton's Grace I had. Now I'll be left with about the same amount when the socks are finished. How annoying! In the meantime, I've started the "leafy lace scarf" out of a silk/wool blend for my sister in law. It's pretty. I hope she likes it.
Have I gone off about my ex mother in law and Santa yet? Forgive me if this is a repeat vent, I'm so mad about it! Chloe told me the other day, "Santa isn't coming to our house." I asked her what on earth she meant and she said "Santa goes to Silver Grammy's house. She told me." Silver Grammy is Mark's mother - the psychotic drunken bitch. (ahem. Please pardon the language.) She told my daughter that Santa Claus will not come to our house, but that he will come to her house the night BEFORE Christmas Eve. Why the hell would she tell my little girl that, other than to try to take away Christmas from us?
So I told her the truth. I said, "Honey, Silver Grammy is just crazy. Santa won't go to her house. She's just an old lady, and Santa only visits kids and their homes. And this is your home." And then I reiterated the crazy part. She said that she has a stocking at her grandmother's house that Santa will fill. I said, "no, honey. She's going to put things in that stocking. Santa is too busy the night before Christmas Eve, he won't go anywhere until Christmas Eve. Your grammy just doesn't know what she's talking about."
That woman makes me crazy. I go from the psychotic drunken mother in law that needs a little bit of religion in her life to the psychotically religious mother in law who could stand to have a drink or two.