Waiting

Lord knows I’ve been in my share of waiting rooms over the last 20 years. Even still, I find the process of sitting in them to be less than palatable.

If it hasn’t been a matter of waiting at the orthodontist when my kids get their respective grills realigned while a parade of teens ranging in ages wander through on their way to a straight rack, it’s been spent waiting for Wifey as her various doctors work on her.

If you’re wondering what’s going on with Wifey that she would need a collection of doctors, I’ll clue you in with a one word response.

Nunya.

Regardless, I sit here at 6:48 am in a waiting room, waiting for the excitement to begin. The chairs are comfortable. The TV is broadcasting Animal Planet, which means I’m not subjected to the insufferable idiocy of this fair city’s news writers and readers under the guise that they’re actually committing acts of journalism. In addition, I have a bottle of unaltered green tea and my trusty iPhone complete with an untrustworthy virtual keyboard in which to capture my thoughts (or lack thereof).

Big picture, if I were going to skip the goings on in Cubeville in an effort to keep my priorities in check, today is the day. The ole Lotus Notes calendar has dictated only one meeting and one additional effort for me today. The task in question ranks up there with self inflicted root canal, but it could be a lot worse.

I can’t help but to look around and wonder if that big ass chandelier (for lack of a better word) would look good in my living room.

This weekend, I have a birthday party to attend for another nephew who will be 8. He likes to play games on my phone too, and I don’t think he’s ever encountered the same booger dilemma his young cousin did last week.

There’s nothing else really to say on this birthday at this point outside of the fact that finding his birthday present may be a challenge. When I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he said Copenhagen.

Beyond that, I just wanted to take the opportunity to use the phrase “booger dilemma” in a blog, and can only hope it shows up on a google search some day.

So I sit here.

And I wait.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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