Waiting for the pot to boil.
It's quite a bit faster than the waiting for work right now. In fact, I've been finding it so distracting, this waiting, I've nearly been unable to knit. So NOT in the moment I am these days. Trying to scheme and plan and figure alternating with worry and anxiety. Small noises annoy the hell out of me, like never before. I do know I have to breathe, though and so I keep trying to go back to my center in the midst of this "monkey mind."
The mindless Mitlit knitting is all I can do when I do knit. In my fantasies, it's a beautiful lace shawl or complicated cable sweater that I'm working on. But, alas, that's just too much for my brain right now. I even have a jacket cut out to sew. It sits waiting for me and has for over a week so that the cats have taken it up as a new bed.
Now I'm just sitting here with a blank page, unable to write. I used to write a lot, but it's something that comes in fits and starts. It's like a different part of my brain...well, I'm sure it is. I remember a time, pre-computer age when I used to beg Cherie to type my resume for me. I remember taking typing tests and failing miserably. Twenty years later and my fingers know their way by heart. You just never know, do you?
Understatement of a lifetime. Everything has been such a suprise. No, not as it comes up and over the horizon, but looking back. Gives me hope for the future when I let it. That is, that I cannot not even begin to know what the future holds.