I’m waiting on a lot of things right now. You know how in Coraline, the man upstairs is made out of rats? I feel like that squirming man, except that I’m constructed out of questions.
The situation was worse a few weeks ago when the list was longer, and I was waiting to hear an answer on 50 things instead of 33 things. But still, you know, 33 things. That’s a lot of things.
I’ve been obsessively cataloguing everything I’m waiting on in my brain like it’s an accounts outstanding folder. I picture all of these questions like the last, thin paper in a triplicate carbon copy. I mentally shuffle through all the receipts I’m holding. Which people or places will pay up so I can move these papers to another folder. Account closed.
There is no difference in my brain between the questions that have a due date (“You’ll have your answer by Friday at the latest”) and the ones that linger about, noncommittal to when they’ll pay up (“Soon!”). They’re all just receipts I have to hold onto until I have an answer and can place them aside.
Until the unknowns are known, or at least at a more manageable level.
I started to write out the list, thinking that if I could take it out of my brain, I would feel better. But I don’t. Not really.
I’m not very good with the waiting game.
Side note: Tomorrow is #MicroblogMondays. Get writing.