What a person doesn’t know can be the most difficult part of life. The total, necessary abdication of control to someone else—is the definition of awfulness.
For someone who has spent her existence as a (mostly) self-determining being, and as a long-time New Yorker, waiting is the impossible thing. I am used to doing things when I need them done. Now is a concept very comfortable to me.
I am not a person to go to parties with others (or mostly ever at all)…not when I’ve got to wait on a comrade’s willingness to leave. That I can do all on my own. I have bowed out of company outings that involved party boats…simply because leaving when I wanted to would mean swimming to shore. When friends have come to the house for the weekend, I’m the one who begs off the conversation to go to bed.
NYC was largely tailor-made for that finickiness: If one wants now, NY is mostly ready to oblige. One is willing to stand in line, if need be, to get now accomplished. Subways are transportation now (more or less.) Food and drink are now, always. Doctors, very often, now.
Springfield is now, but on a different scale. At least when it comes to jumping into a car and getting somewhere. Restaurants and shops, not so much (but then I’m not much in shopping mode here, anyway.) Doctors, no.
When someone receives an alarming call, shouldn’t the caller remain phoneside to deliver the explanation the recipient wants? Now? And how does one deal with the fidgets of being—unhappily, uncharacteristically—out of control?
What we don’t know can hurt us.