time lost in life because of waiting

1. The elevator - from 1 to 10 minutes everyday.
2. Your computer to boot up - from 2 minutes to never.
3. An additional 15 minutes to 1 hour waiting for cars to move in a traffic jam.
4. 3 seconds to a minute for your favourite web page to load. The same applies to applications.
5. Waiting in a line-up with more than four people from 1 minute to days depending on the reason for the queue.
6. Waiting for your car to get fixed/maintained for 8 hours or more for an overhaul to 15 minutes for an oil change.
7. Waiting for your food to cook for 30 seconds in the microwave to several hours in the oven.
8. Being put on hold on the telephone for 1 to 60 minutes.
9. Waiting for ideas to come in creating new nodes/writeups! (From instantaneous to months or years.)
10. Waiting for writeups to be cooled/C!. (10 seconds to never.)

I sat around in my cuddly pink robe for a while, knitting Josh's scarf and watching the first season of Grey's Anatomy on dvd. I smoothed on the chocolate scented body lotion, because whenever you smell it on me, you smile. My hair smelled like pomegranates. It was a good combination, spicy and smooth. I was smiling to myself as I lifted the new dress off the back of my chair.

It's hot, the dress. A vampy black number, to the knees, with red and white striped sleeves. One part rock-a-billy, two parts Brigitte Bardot. Mostly I bought it as another excuse to wear my red stilettos. I shimmied into it, not so much because it was tight, as because it's just the sort of dress you shimmy into. Two cuff bracelets and a choker, since I was feeling more punk rock than precious, a little mascara and the lime flavoured lip gloss and I was set.

I grabbed my purse, the spare key to the truck, and held my heels in the other hand as I slipped my feet into a pair of camo ballet flats. No way was I driving that boat in three inch diva shoes.

I made my way to the all night coffee house by 9:30. I looked sexy. I felt happy. All I had to do now was wait.

My friends did. This little place has become my second home while I'm in town, and all the regulars came out in force. There was coffee and laughter and general good times.

When I allowed my brain to realize you weren't going to show, I bid an early farewell to my little group of fellow insomniacs, gathered up my purse and made my way to the door. The cute guy from Boston who'd been swapping dirty jokes with me last week was there again, and asked for my number. I hesitated, heard myself saying "Sorry, I have a-" out of habit, and stopped. Started again. "I have... no reason at all not to give you my number." Smiled. Wrote it on a sugar packet and left. What the hell, right?

Got to the truck, traded out my sexy heels for my safe slide ons, and drove home. A quiet greeting to the dogs, lock the door behind me, drop my purse on the bed and head down the hall to brush my teeth. Briefly considered washing my face, to prevent waking up to the charming mascara-raccoon look tomorrow... Decided it was too much effort. I'd be up in a few hours anyway. Scuffled back to my room, where the glow from my phone informed me that you had been heard from at last.

"Too late." I sent back. I waited for you to respond, some show of disappointment, or even just a "Goodnight and sweet dreams." Five minutes. Ten. The back light on my keyboard cast a purple pall over the phone that didn't ring. I sighed. Shut off the phone, and went to sleep.