The Holding Pattern

I'm an impatient person. Horribly so. I'm one of those people who can hem and haw over dinner, but when it comes to important decisions, I make them and move. I do this in my job, as well. I asses, decide, and move in accordance with that decision.

So, now, I'm stuck in a holding pattern. Mr. Mac and I have sold our house. We have decided we're moving. We've begun working toward that end. 'Cept it won't happen for another few months still. Which is highly annoying. I didn't realize the extent to which I would completely disengage from my work here once I decided I would not be working here much longer.

I'm ready to go. To be done. To get on with it. But I'm stuck here. Circling, as it were. I feel like I'm stuck in a circle above the airport at the end of a Transatlantic flight, really. My legs are numb from sitting with my knees at my nose, heels at my rear. I've read the magazine, thumbed through the Sky Mall, and done every crossword I can find. But I'm still not where I'm due to be.

Patience. It's supposedly a virtue. I see it as a coping mechanism I must somehow develop. I'm playing phone tag with a contact about a job prospect. We're still waiting on schools to decide so we can finalize where Rob will be. Everything is just on hold.

Except my mind, which is racing ahead at a million miles an hour.