I hate waiting. I want everything to happen RIGHT NOW. “Instant gratification isn’t fast enough,” as Carrie Fisher says in Postcards from the Edge.
After an excruciating 72 hours of waiting (skillfully negotiated by our brilliant agent), our offer was accepted on the house that fired my imagination and took my breath away. Now we are waiting on inspection, appraisal, mortgage procedure, radon testing, BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH. The stuff that has to happen in the normal world in just the right way. The stuff that will ensure we are not making a terrible knee jerk decision, blind-folded and clueless. The stuff I’ve wanted to bypass my entire life.
The stuff I am SLOWLY learning HAS to happen to achieve anything good.
I have never wanted to wait. Not for feelings to process, or bad things to pass or good things to come. I didn’t want to wait through the hell of early sobriety or the tinder hooks of high risk pregnancy or the lifelong process of transforming the endorphins of falling in love into a marriage that won’t blow up. I’ve always seen myself more as a homewrecker than a homemaker. Wrecking a home is pretty quick. Making a home takes time. I can tell I’m changing when a membership to Costco and talking about window treatments and planning shelf lining actually sounds fun instead of making me want to stab my eyes out.
Right now I am trying to be patient, to lean into waiting, to take it one day at a time. To not fixate on what is to come but what is happening right here and now. It's tough. My mind is a ghost inhabiting the rooms of our new life already. I am trying to make my peace with this small purgatory. It’s not my first or last time here. I might as well unpack my suitcase, get comfortable, and wait.