A watched pot
So, my grandmother used to say that a watched pot never boils. When I was a kid I didn’t know what she meant by that. I found out when I used to wait for the bus after school. Not the yellow school bus, but the public bus which NEVER EVER came on schedule. There was a pay phone (remember those) a block away from the bus stop and while waiting I would call friends who had already made it home to chit-chat. While deep in conversation I would notice the bus would suddenly come speeding up to the stop and I would have quickly end my call and race to the stop so as not to miss it and wait another hour for the next one. But on days when I had no quarters for the phone and simply stared in the direction of the bus, I swear it took FOREVER for the bus to come. Or on days when my middle school crush took the route home past my bus stop it seemed like the bus came EARLY on purpose JUST as I was tripping up into the bus while he was watching. So, here I am all these years later. I’m thinking about grandma and all the things she tried to teach me then. I’m waiting for my agent to send me an editorial letter (number two) that will hopefully lead to the final round of revisions before we can submit PRAEFATIO to others. I have to tell you though, this freaking pot refuses to boil!
