Someone, somewhere, theorised that we spend half our lives waiting for something to happen.
Be that in a queue or in waiting rooms, or sitting around and waiting for someone in power to get the thumb out of their divot and get things done.
I, currently, have wasted half my day waiting for the men of the house to get their hairy arses into gear so we can finally finish fixing that fucking fence. They apparently spent all night programming - at work and at home - so that they could have time to get things done today.
And the neighbour angry at our dog for barking came by again whilst I was sleeping and Hubby didn’t drop one golden word about the measures we’d taken already. Sigh.
I asked a few days ago as to whether or not I would be able to do the fence on my only. Hubby said one word, “no.” He wouldn’t even let me try.
So I have wasted half the week waiting for him to come home in daylight hours [he didn’t] so we could work on the fence. Now I’m feeling my weekend bleeding away because I’m waiting for him to wake up.
AND it’s my Mum’s birthday today [Nov 27th] and I can’t go shopping for her present because nobody’s awake to look after the kids.
Normally, I don’t mind waiting. It’s when I get some of my best writing done. But it’s hard to write when you’re sick with worry and stressing out about the things that need to get done but can’t because other people are fast asleep like the innocent.
It isn’t fair.
I spent every last cent I had on this. I work just as hard and just as long on it, and I’d do more if I just knew where Hubby put the damn essential tools… and nothing gets done today because the men decided they’d rather program all night and sleep all day.
The more time gets wasted, the angrier the neighbour gets and the sicker I feel from stressing out about the whole issue.
So whoever came up with that statistic must have me as a dot outside the curve, because most of my waking time is wasted waiting for other people to shift the thumb.
Is it so wrong just to want to get things DONE?