Hurry up and wait

Sunday I was much too busy to write. I woke up early and with energy, so I vacuumed the entire flat – thoroughly. Washed the sheets, washed the duvet, etc. etc. The only time I set foot outside was to carry the rubbish down.

Monday morning, on my way to work, I got caught in the worst traffic jam I’ve experienced in PE. That short stretch along John Tallant (a one or two minute drive) takes over half an hour!

At work, I’m stuck in the waiting game. Waiting for replies – get a reply, hurry up processing, then waiting again. There is no more work that needs to be or even can be done here. I have one more task: a return shipment. Once that has been collected, the site is closed. So, I hurry up and wait.

I hurry up and wait on Monday. I hurry up and wait on Tuesday. On Wednesday I only have two hours to wait – all the hurrying is done. My part is finished, I said my goodbyes, switched off the light and locked the door.

Of course, I don’t know if I need to go back to work again. And if so, when. Or when I will know that. Or, if I won’t be needed again, whether I’ll even be informed.

And then there is still the looming move. I know that I will move. I don’t know when. I don’t know where to. Well, most probably either East London (300 km away) or Pretoria (1100 km away). I don’t know when I will know. And how much time I will have, once somebody knows and hopefully lets me know.

So now the game has changed to wait, wait, wait then hurry up. With no indication how long.