Where Have You Been?

You probably want to ask me that question. Or maybe you don’t. If not, I promise not to be insulted.

But just in case you were wondering why I haven’t written in so long…I’ve been busy. Writing.

That’s not to say that this blog isn’t considered “writing,” it’s just that unfortunately, with the other “writing” being PAID writing, my blog has to take a so-called back seat.

What can I say?

Money talks. I’m happy to currently be writing a magazine article for a major woman’s publication, and lots of health content for existing and new online clients. But the life of a freelance writer? It’s feast or famine. So perhaps you haven’t quite seen the last of me for a while.

But truly, I’ve missed writing here. I’ve managed to eke out a few extra minutes; right now, I’m  sitting at my desk (trying hard to be patient), earplugs at the ready, waiting for an interview source to call me at our prescribed time which I confirmed twice (he’s already five minutes late) so I can find out all about tap water. Yes…my assignments take me from writing about exciting things like sex, friendship, spas, Alzheimer’s and heart disease all the way down to the safety of tap water.

That’s where I’ve been. (I’m still waiting for the phone to ring).

So while we’re on the subject, let’s talk about being prompt. Even though I’m conscious of time, sometimes I’m late. Not by much, but by about 10 minutes or so. Just enough to claim to be “almost” on time. Maybe subconsciously I’m challenging myself to be a wee bit late so I can feel more relaxed and take pride in being “flexible.” (I know, that might sound counterintuitive, but… whatever).

But to hubby – who is always and forever prompt to the minute – even when I’m on time he insists I’m late, because to be on time to him is to be ten minutes early. And that’s the part of being a little late that is not relaxing.

 

Still with me?

I still contend, after 30-plus years of marriage, that the only things I must absolutely be on time for are trains, planes and doctor appointments. Oh, and interviews.

But in reality, when are those things ever on time? You rush to make a flight, only to find out it’s delayed for two hours due to air traffic, weather or worse. You run for the train, and wonder why you risked life and limb because all you’re doing is sitting still while the conductor chimes in with a not-so-friendly announcement, the only part you hear over the cackle of static is something like “signal problems ahead.” You get to the doctor for your 1:30 appointment and at 3:00 you’re still sitting in the waiting room. White-coat hypertension? It’s not about being nervous to see a doctor, it’s about stewing in the waiting room while no one tells you the doctor is running late.

Which reminds me, the water guy still hasn’t called and now he’s officially past my 10-minutes late threshold.

What’s that? My phone is ringing.

This is where I leave you.

It’s about time he called.