What if waiting was allotted to each of us in uniform chunks, so many chunks of waiting a month. These chunks would be shaped to stack, so one could wait right out of the chunk that gets used up, smack into the next one without interruption. When in use, these chunks of waiting would be used up at a steady rate of time, their time. So, no matter how fast we waited, each chunk would be good for the same length of real time. We would soon learn how much real time is packed into each waiting chunk, so the faster we could wait, the more waiting we could pack into each month! If waiting were actually limited, we probably wouldn’t bring it into play to sit and watch a wart disappear for example, or to watch a stalk of corn grow, or to watch ice melt. We’d probably rather keep our chunks of waiting for use towards Christmas or something.
Waiting on a train could even become questionable. I’ve seen cars turn around even now and go the opposite direction instead of waiting on the train. It looked like, “As long as we’re moving, we can’t be waiting!” Or, do you suppose the fact that the train had the right of way was digging into their chunk?
If we waited too long in any one time span, our chunks would be gone before months end and we wouldn’t be able to wait for the next supply to arrive. I can see some of us checking ebay, desperately hoping to find unused chunks of waiting for purchase, with a buy now price.
How important is waiting? It seems waiting has become so much a part of my life, I hardly know what to do with myself when I’m not waiting, or for that matter, while I am waiting! I’ll be waiting to hear what you think!

I get nervous when I receive an invitation to a party that is predicted to be a shoe-in as being the best party of the year. This shoe-in thing is the vein of the invitation that has my nerves exercising, what about my other shoe? Wouldn’t the shoe-in kick the other shoe into the shoe-out category? It almost tears me apart thinking that I would be invited to send the one foot with shoe-in shoe-on to the shoe-in party and keep the foot with the shoe-out shoe on, from going. If I did decide to send my shoe-in foot solo, couldn’t I get by with doing only half of a total spit shine, concentrating only on that parting party shoe? I’ve already figured out that my foot with the shoe-in shoe on, has to be my right foot because the foot with the shoe-out shoe on would be left. Oh, wait a minute, you don’t suppose the person that sent that invitation was just trying to pull my leg? You think?

Remember world of champions, we tease for breakfast!
Have you ever seen a house fly or a horse fly or a cotton tail or a sign age or a turkey waddle or a tiddeldy wink as cream puffs, throwing a tire at her Z bra? Have you ever seen an L bow or a toe nail or a finger nail or notice a wrist watch a hot dog and a cow hide? Or have you ever seen a back stretch to the four fronts on the front ear banging on an ear drum, or a whole community building a well groomed, beside the lite house? Perhaps you noticed the table spoon while the kitchen sinks? Or did you maybe see the micro wave through the hair dew? Have you ever heard a foot bawl or a sheet rock or notice when a ladder’s rung? Or maybe you’ve seen the cat fish or spot a leopard or eye a potato, or just what were you doing during this time?

All who agree that the following account is really how cottage cheese got it’s name, please raise your hand!
There once was a mountain man who, along with his little queen, lived in a little hut on the side of the mountain. They both loved the taste of home churned butter, but found it very frustrating to have to keep discarding the left over liquids that splashed around the chunk of butter after the churn’s been turned.. They were successful at most everything they tried, until they decided to market that clabbered milk, the left over butter milk. They poured it into fancy round containers with tight fitting lids and called it “Little Hut Cheese” because it originated in their little hut. But, to their disappointment, the “Little Hut Cheese” didn’t sell. They finally hired a consultant and asked what ingredients they needed to add to their “Little Hut Cheese” to make it more marketable. The consultant asked only one question, “Do you make this “Little Hut Cheese” yourselves in your own little cottage?” Immediately the mountain man and his little queen detected the consultant’s advice. They simply changed the name of their homemade “Little Hut Cheese” and everyone reading this knows the success they enjoyed marketing today’s tastey Cottage Cheese!
Ok, I didn’t see you raise your hand, so what’s your story?

Here it is, real and alive, Dr. Pepper is boasting twenty three flavors in their soft drink. C’mon now, unless those flavors have a way of tickling our buds independently, how many is the consumer really going to taste? Maybe we need to be designing a multi compartment can with a flavor select lid, or a dial-a-flavor drinking straw with twenty three little gidgets on it!
Am I looking at this wrong? Does it really matter to me of the mix includes eighty nine flavors, or only three? It will either taste good or not, but taste will be judged on the one single, end flavor. I know my taste department isn’t going to check how many magical little flavors happened to get doctored or peppered into the final mix. Maybe they should adopt an ad that goes something like this, “Try the perfect recipe for you and me and you‘ll savor the flavor! Dr. Pepper”