I just signed the lease to my new apartment, and I have this whole day off and nothing to do when I could have been moving stuff in. But I have to wait until Tuesday. So in rebellion, I did nothing. I slept in until 11, laid around in my underwear until 2 or so, got the keys from the landlord so I could show it to my friend Mike then came back home. Mike wanted to be antisocial today and I was mad at him, because I had nothing to do and no one to do it with. I hate waiting.

I've got nifty things to do in September but it's not September yet and all I can do is wait. This one Sunday hangs there, dripping like the condensation in my fridge, slowly dying. I am waiting for night to come, when I can venture outside, though I don't know what I will do once I get out there. The only goal I have tonight is to get back on a normal sleep schedule for work Monday. Maybe I'll get something to eat again. I have only eaten once today. Maybe some beer too. We're not having church tonight, so I don't even have that as a distraction. I could go out to the park and walk, but I just don't feel like doing anything good for me today. I will be breaking my back all of next week moving and re-positioning furniture so that's how I can do this for an entire day and not feel bad.

I hate waiting.

Mea culpa:

I have a lot of trouble getting over the idea that when other people are late for a rendevous with me that they are doing it for the sole purpose of making me wait.

While they are busy oversleeping, or missing the train, or having car trouble, I am busy fuming that they are one-upping me, playing some sort of weird mind game, in which I cool my heels while they secretly chortle with sadistic glee.

It's thoughts like these that place me firmly in the ranks of people who have too much time on their hands - unfortunately, being punctual while others are late only aggravates my predicament.

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