I Can Wait

A Household Word

Some people complain about waiting. Not me. I like it. Waiting is doing nothing. And I like doing nothing.

I am in the dentist's waiting room. By some miracle of time and space, perhaps a worm hole at the end of my street, I have left the chaos of my kitchen and arrived five minutes early for my appointment.

I check in with the receptionist, sit down and peruse the two magazines in the rack. There is the Journal of Periodontology and a year-old copy of Family Circle. Naturally, I pick up the Family Circle. By the time the receptionist calls my name, I have learned to make a holiday table runner (so what if it's August?), discovered the seven secrets to a successful marriage, and copied a recipe for pineapple upside-down cake. I am thoroughly enjoying myself.

"The dentist is running a little late," the receptionist warns me. "I hope you don't mind waiting a few minutes."

Do I mind!? Is she kidding? I am thrilled! I am in a quiet room with comfortable chairs, reading material and no kids. This is the best part of my day - maybe even the best part of my summer.

When I left the house a few minutes ago, I put my two oldest children in charge of their younger brother. I handed them a box of Eggos™, pointed them toward the toaster and told them that I'd be home in less than an hour. They could call my cell phone but only if there was a REAL EMERGENCY.

"That's OK," I said to the receptionist. "I don't mind waiting. I don't mind a bit."

I finish the Family Circle and flip through the Journal of Periodontology. I am deeply engrossed in an article on dental implants when I hear the electronic strains of The 1812 Overture. After a few bars, I realize that it's not the office Muzak, it's my cell phone.

"Hi, Mom?" It's my youngest son Lewis. He's shouting into the receiver and I think I hear sirens in the background.

"Honey, are you OK?"

"Can I have a popsicle?"

"Sure," I say and he hangs up before I can ask about the sirens. It's probably just the TV.

I return to the Journal of Periodontology and read about gum disease and tissue inflammation. There are photos. I am having fun.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," the receptionist says. "I'm sure that Dr. Perlmutter will be right with you."

"It's fine," I say. "Really."