The Impatient One

Turns out, the Short Jewish Gal is short on patience. Who knew? Everyone who's ever met me.  I believe the first one to point it out to me was my mother. We were waiting for a table at a restaurant.  I was a pre-teen at the time. "When are they going to seat us?" I asked. "Soon." "How soon?" "Why are you so impatient?" I can't remember my answer, but I'm sure it involved pouting. A few years later, my mom was the one to show her impatience with me. I was now a full-blown, angsty, hormonally-inclined teen SJG. "Carol, you're going through some kind of a phase. I don't like it. When is it going to be over?" I  can't remember my answer, but I'm sure it involved pouting. I was very big on pouting. I still am. But patience? Not one of my strengths. Seems I'm always waiting, always in line, wanting things to resolve quickly.  As a result, everything slows to a snail's pace. Nice. Thanks so much for that. I've worked on my issue with patience. I've tried to become more patient, with mixed results. I've meditated on it. I've medicated because of it. There are times when I'm better. I'm fairly patient when I'm asleep. Until something wakes me up. Then I'm impatient to get back to sleep. As my mother might ask, when is this phase going to be over? Soon, Mom. Soon. When the SJG controls the universe, I'm going to master it, once and for all.