Writing--for publication, anyway--involves a lot of waiting.* You wait for pitches and finished pieces to be accepted or rejected. You wait to hear from editors. You wait for your words to appear in print/online. 

Waiting for the sun to rise.

Regular life apparently involves a lot of waiting too--even when you can schedule appointments and aren't hanging around to hear by text or phone (or when you give out your cell number more frequently than we do). I have two appointments still looming this month (one fun, one not so much but worthy), and even though they aren't today's problems, I feel their weight.  

Of course, it's possible to do things while you wait. 

Yesterday, while waiting, I had a cavity filled and learned how to resize a graphic in Canva. Monday, I watched a knowledgeable expert fix the washing machine. For several previous weeks, I've produced and revised words. 

The past couple of weeks have been full of mechanical things. I've asked many other experts for help, and although some of them are prompt in returning my woe-filled 2 AM emails, others aren't. Nevertheless, we have, for a limited time, ability to put water into our storage tank, and we know a few things that are wrong with our water system. Because of waiting, and because of doing things while we wait.  

Things like finally figuring out how to recycle and/or responsibly dispose of expired medications (ask your pharmacist; it's not that hard!). Things like finally culling books from shelves that have been inconvenient to access, and getting rid of an entire bookshelf's worth! 

But we're still waiting on semi-permanent fixes for many of these mechanical things. I'm looking at some requested revisions, running numbers, finishing things up as autumn approaches. 

But yes: autumn is approaching! And I'm getting less patient with the waiting. 

However, I've learned that doing things while I wait is its own reward. Things get done. I'm going now to do more. While waiting.  


* Also rejection, but this is about waiting.