Waiting in line

Maybe the entire world is impatient. Here in Dunwoody, waiting your turn is a bad thing. Lines form for preschool and camp registration, popular restaurants pack 'em into their miniscule entries while tables free up, commuters inch aggressively into merged lanes during rush hour, and the grocery store doesn't open up new lanes fast enough to suit us. Toe tapping, eye-rolling, gusty sighs . . . we're too Southern to fuss verbally, but we sure know how to communicate our displeasure with well-versed body language cues.

"It's outrageous. My time is valuable and all these other people are just in my way. I need to get my child to school/go to work/start my tennis match/make my next appointment. I cannot believe I'M having to wait. Let's move, people!"

I'm one of those impatient people.

I HATE waiting.

Which is why I almost always have a bag of knitting with me. I'm much more patient when I have something to do. Doctor running an hour late? Okay - planned for it. Carpool delayed because some mom decided to park in the lane while she ran in for "just a second"? Fine. A few more rows and we'll get going. Table not ready despite reservation made weeks ago? Al-righty. I can knit standing up (and have done so many times). I'm out of luck in stores, though. That's when I resort to the toe tapping and sighing.

Sure, knitting in such places makes me look obsessed. Or possessed. But at least I stay fairly calm. And remind myself that the person or institution causing me to wait is not necessarily doing it to make me crazy.

They, too, have to wait. For something.