Misguided Patience

Far be it from me to condemn laziness, and in fact I admire it to some shameful degree. After all, in my warped and twisted universe, I look at my job (engineering) as finding new and innovative ways to promote laziness. It was not a workaholic health nut that came up with the self-propelling lawn mower, I promise you.

But apparently even I have my limits. The scenario breaks down like this: late at night, I'm basically the only car in the parking lot at Giant, right before closing time. So of course, I park in the space closest to the door, surrounded by literally dozens of empty spaces. As I'm coming back out of Giant, I see another car in the parking lot, but with its engines still running, signalling and waiting for my spot.

"Thou jesteth," I say to myself, in that way that I would only ever speak to myself in. I thought maybe they were sitting around waiting for someone. To test my theory, I deliberately take as long as I can to load up my car. The occupants of the car merely watched me patiently as I efficiently carried cans of soup between the shopping cart and my trunk one at a time. Sure enough, once I had completed my protracted labor and pulled out of the spot (after taking about 10 minutes to load 9 bucks of groceries), the other car pulled into the newly vacated space.

Note to self: next time, get them to pay me to leave the parking space.

pb78

Maturity and Similarly Unlikely Events

I spent some quality time caroling tonight at an old folks' home. I've done similar gigs since high school, and it embarasses me more than a little to say that I typically have the following mindset concerning these performances: get in there, sing (and play guitar in one case), and get out.

Tonight went fairly routinely as gigs in these venues go - in particular, the desire of our elderly audience to schmooze and chat with us a bit afterwards. I'd never been rude to them, but in the past I had always pulled the nod-and-smile and try to retreat as quickly as it as politic to do so. Unbelievably, I didn't feel that urge tonight and actually felt something approximating enthusiasm about conversing with them. I sat and chatted with two elderly women with whom I had almost nothing in common and no real ability to relate to meaningfully, and not once felt the instinct to glance at a watch or the doorway, plotting my escape.

I won't claim that I'm learning maturity or anything utterly unbelievable like that - but I might be starting down that road, which offers relief and fear at the same time. =o)

pb78