H’lo? This thing on? Yes? Good.
Today’s the start of the 100 Things Challenge, in which you find 100 things and blog about them. (Simple enough, eh?) I actually meant to start this yesterday, but my leg began acting up, and I spent the largest chunk of yesterday evening heavily medicated. Happy, because my leg shut up, but…well, I’d’ve made even less sense than usual if I’d tried to chat on all of that.
I’m not feeling particularly well today, either—some seriously bad vertigo attacks—and, well, I need to rest. But I said I’d get started, and get started I shall.
It is an intangible situation, this feeling. You know that something good is coming to you—you probably earned it—and with every day that passes, you feel a little more of it. Your skin tingles, your pulse quickens, and you feel a little giddy every time you check the mail box. Then, the day hits, and you have it.
I’m talking about that feeling of anticipation that you get when you’re waiting for something special. Now, most people hate this part of the process, but I love it. It’s one of my favorite little modes of torture to put myself through, especially when the wait is a long one. The last time, I managed to get my hands on a copy of Harold Budd’s Colorful Fortune, a book of many of his poems.
This time around, my trip to the mailbox is just a litle bit different; instead of receiving a rare book, I receive a new high-tech toy to futz around with.
Excuse the puny size. I took this immediately on my camera phone because the real camera’s batteries were in the middle of charging. Also excuse the random iPod: I needed to censor the address label with something. (Like hell am I going to let myself get opened up to more junk mail!) I spent a few minutes playing with it before I opened it up with a pair of kitchen shears. I took my time about it. The anticipation only lasts as long as you don’t have the thing, and it was in my hands by this point (faster than the forums said it’d show up by far).
I absolutely love getting packages in the mail. Even if it’s something that you’ve bought for yourself, there’s just something special about opening that mailbox and finding the thing that you’ve been waiting for. It’s like being a little kid on Christmas morning, opening a present.
I’ve always loved waiting for my packages. When I was little it was sort of an event. I’d sit on the floor near the door mail slot and wait for the mailman to come with my box of Babysitters Club books. Then I’d take them to my room, beg my dad to make a grilled mozzarella cheese sandwich with pizza sauce to dip it in, and play the “how many of these can I finish in one sitting?” game.
I don’t get paid until the Thursday after next. The money’ll be nice, since it’s been busy. After bills are paid off from that check, I’m going to treat myself for something else nifty. I’ve got my eye on the so-called miracle berry tablets—you eat one, and for a while everything tastes enhanced and sweet, without actually BEING sweet (You could bite into a plain lemon and it’d taste like lemonade!). But it’ll be a while before I can do that. After all, first I need a little more money.
Until then, I have my anticipation.