Journal of a Sabbatical

June 25, 2001

the waiting

Today's Reading: Unbeaten Tracks in Japan by Isabella Bird

Today's Starting Pitcher:
David Cone

2001 Book List
2001 Plum Island Bird List
Plum Island Life List

Having figured out that Airborne Express obviously meant 6/25 on that delivery notice, I settled in this morning to await the arrival of the replacement keyboard. I still find it ridiculous that I can't just get a tab key and snap it on. And how on earth did they manage to ship the original keyboard without a tab key in the first place? Anyway, my agenda for the day is to wait for the keyboard to be delivered, inspect it to make sure it has all its keys, and mail it off to Budakeszi.

I try to accomplish a bunch of miscellaneous tasks while I wait, like review the nth and n+1st revision of the cat shelter's volunteer survey corresponding all the while by email and trying to avoid the necessity for another meeting when the edits are really minor. At least that actually came to resolution. I also feel motivated to work on the library modularization project but alas have no more empty modules left, so must buy more before I can continue. I send lots of email and browse lots of web sites.

I research lots of stuff on the web, particularly the new technology I am about to encounter at the Knocking Opportunity. I've got to think of a better name for it before I actually start working there, but Pink Sparkly Startup is already taken. I thought of Starship Startup but that sounds too much like an aerospace company. KnockOp would be OK if it didn't sound so much like knock-up. TKO, for The Knocking Opportunity, might work. It'll come to me.

I clear off a large work area on my desk so I can work on some non-computer tasks and Wilbur immediately decides I have cleared this surface specifically for him. He stretches out to his full length (I have a very big old oak schoolmarm's desk) and goes to sleep. Oh well, I didn't really want to do those editing tasks and correspondence anyway.

Finally the keyboard appears in mid afternoon. Calloo! Callay! It has all its keys. I slap the address label on it and re-tape the box. The humidity, although it's not nearly as bad as it was over the weekend, does raise havoc with the tape. The tape sticks to itself or wrinkles or won't stick... I finally decide the Post Office will be able to re-tape the box.

The line at the Post Office is long. Very long. One woman with some sort of accent is mailing several packages to several different countries. She apparently has filled out the wrong customs form for one of them (packages over 4 pounds have to have a different form). The postal worker looks at the long line and does something to the package, weighs it again and it's suddenly 3.something pounds. A barely audible sigh of relief passes through the line, which is growing faster than the two postal workers can service it. At last I mail the keyboard and flee the Post Office.

Another line story:

I decide to get a bagel sandwich at Bruegger's (hummus, tomato, and muenster cheese on a sun dried tomato bagel is usually a good choice there). Bruegger's is not known for fast service to put it mildly. An elderly woman with a cane arrives just before me and walks slowly, unbelievably slowly, Zen monks doing walking meditation do not walk this slowly, to the counter. They have these crowd control/line control barriers so I can't cut in front of her. Two high school boys who have just walked from North Andover are behind me moving very fast until they too suddenly realize there's no way around slow woman and the barriers.

There is only one person making sandwiches. Slow Woman stares at the menu for what seems like an hour but is definitely longer than two minutes without saying a word. The sandwich person finally asks her what she wants. "I'd like a bagel." "What kind?" Long Pause. "Plain." "What do you want on it?" Even Longer Pause. "I'd like some jelly on it."

Finally a second sandwich person arrives and asks if he can help the next person in line. That would be me. However, I am getting this extremely pressured vibe from the two boys. I offer to let them go ahead of me. They are amazed and decline. I finally order my sandwich and a bowl of vegetarian pea soup. Slow Woman pays for her bagel slowly, then the cashier vanishes. I go to pay for my lunch and there is no one there. I wait. I tap my fingers on the counter. I hum. Finally the guy who made my sandwich metamorphoses into a cashier.

I eat the sandwich and soup next door at Starbucks. The bagel is unusually bitter. It just tastes wrong. The soup tastes bitter. I decide my taste buds must be off and eat them anyway. However, before I get halfway through the soup it has gone stone cold. I don't finish it.

The happy ending to this story happens when I cross the street to the Fleet ATM. It actually works. It dispenses money to me on the first try. Groceries here I come.

I know learning to wait patiently can be a spiritual practice, but there are limits.

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