SYRACUSE POST-STANDARD
SATURDAY. OCT. 21, 1978

My Weird World

By Audrey (Kentuckypine)


What is life? This profound question
has been tackled by people with more
sense than I have, to be sure. However,
I can't help but think maybe I've stumbled
upon an answer — well, at least
part of an answer.

And it's all so simple. I don't know
why someone didn't think of it before.
"Life" is divided into two parts: (1)
doing things, and (2) waiting. There's
the secret, waiting.

It's the waiting that really teaches us
more than the doing. I mean, when one
gets to do things, time passes quickly,
but when one has to wait, one has time
to reflect on those things one has done
or intends to do. Does that make any
sense at all? Well, if it does then you
must be as frustrated as I am.

'Just take a moment and ask yourself
how much time you spend in the course
of a week, just waiting. I have discovered,
while waiting in the doctor's office,
that I have spent as least half my
life thumbing through Reader's Digest
and the National Geographic Magazines.

My entire adult education consists of
"Points To Ponder,": "Towards More
Picturesque Speach" and "The Aborigines
of Australia." It's no wonder I've
been unable to deal with the metric
system.

Lest you think my mind is wandering
or that I'm exaggerating a point, let
me just tell you about my last week.

Monday, 10 a.m:, dentist appointment;
waiting time, 1 how 47 minutes; actual
time in the chair, seven minutes.
Monday, 1 p.m, meeting with subject of
interview; actual contact made at 2:45
p.m., length of conversation, two minutes
(too busy to talk today; come back
another time).

Tuesday, 9 a.m., meet with children's
guidance counselor. One parent,
three kids and two hours later I find out
my kids got problems with recess! In
the afternoon I took the car for its annual
checkup which was supposed to
take place at 1:30 p.m., we got in at 4
p.m. only to discover it was a.terminal
case.

Wednesday: hairdresser's appointment
delayed by 45 minutes by a lady
with congenital frizzier. Followed by
a two-hour wait to see a lawyer who
was to tell me I couldn't sue the Post
office for making me wait in line for an
hour to mail a package to the runaway
in Florida.

I won't bore you with the rest of the
week except to mention the small
waits, like the supermarket line, the
bank, the motor vehicle department,
the emergency room at the hospital,
the muffler shop and the business office
receptionist who put me on hold
from Thursday morning til Saturday
afternoon,

The thing to do, I think anyway, is to
utilize that waiting time in some kind
of productive effort. Write a book,
compose a song, knit an American flag,
make a list of things to do when you're
not waiting,,or give birth to quintuptets.
And above all, program yourself
to be a disbeliever in the phrase: "I'll be
with you in just a moment..."