Waiting . . . . .

I hate waiting.

Actually, that's wrong. I don't mind waiting for nice things, like presents and guests, or a table in a restaurant.

I dislike waiting for other things, like weight to fall off, the lottery jackpot to be mine or a taxi on a cold, wet night.

I hate waiting for results.

I am starting to feel a little crazy. I really need my results now. Damn it, uni, tell me please ! Have I failed so miserably that at least we'll get an epic poem out of it ? Or is it going to be more of a "Oh fuck" as I wander off, wondering why I spent those years accruing so much frickin' debt ? Or, fingers crossed, am I going to be pleased ? I'd like to be really pleased, really, really pleased but I will happily take pleased. Perhaps it's more like pleasantly surprised.

I'd say it feels like I'm checking every few hours, but that would imply I'm not actually doing that. And I am.

I hate waiting.