Waiting for Godot's Cousin Bob

 



I hate waiting. 

I especially hate waiting in line for anything, because I can't help but think of all the things that I could be doing instead of standing in line.  After all, the laundry doesn't wash itself.  

Even if I am able to use my smartypants phone to take care of some items on my list, I still begrudge standing in line.  I feel like I'm in that play Waiting for Godot.

If I have to stand in a line, that line had better be a briskly moving one, otherwise the poor souls ahead of me are going to be forced to listen to my loud sighs and low decibel muttering. I have good reason to mutter.

When I have to stand in line, my feet inevitably start whining.  It's as if they are yelling "Are we there yet?" at me, only their language is a throbbing, swelling sort of pain.  Occasionally they will add a cramp in there, and sometimes I feel as though I have bruised the bottoms of my feet from standing. 

After the feet start with the whining, the knees get cranky.  My right knee will start pulsing with a sharp stab of pain as I shuffle from foot to foot to keep up my circulation.  The left knee just swells up to show its displeasure.

The hips never want to be left out of any griping, so they start flaring with tingling and pins and needles as I try to stretch out my aching Achilles.  Then the lower back starts screaming at me about how great sitting down would be.  I start clenching my jaw at the various pains. 

My upper back, which has been hunched a bit because of my irritation, starts to feel tight, and that persnickety-ness travels all the way up my neck to join the tension caused by my clenching jaw.  This super tsunami of pain travels over my skull to a spot above my right eye, where it causes a pounding tension headache. 

And people wonder why I'm so grouchy...



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