It’s 1:45 P.M on a sunny Monday afternoon in Hollywood, Los Angeles. I stand at my door, like a dog waiting for its owner to come home. Instead, I am waiting for my temporary owner- the UPS man. He owns my time. On any other day, I would’ve been out at the grocery store, making a career run or at my friend’s downtown apartment enjoying the view from the roof. However, my time is constrained to my house; huffing and puffing and wondering “When will my ever-loving packages arrive?”
I pace from the couch to the door and from the door to the window over and over again as if I’m on a subconscious biological schedule. I try to distract myself with television but there’s nothing good on. After a while you realize that the price is never right and that Law and Order is always going to take you on the same ride, so why bother. The guy you didn’t suspect did it. So you’re back to pacing. Then I make some things to eat and become a glutton, realizing that I’m stuffing my face out of pure boredom. The food then becomes nasty and tastes like feelings so I move on to further boredom. I decide to take a nap, but II am so paranoid about not being able to hear the doorbell that I can’t sleep. And noises… don’t even get me started on noises. The moment I hear anything that sounds like a huge vehicle carrying belongings addressed to me, I go running like an Olympic champion. But I run in vain. It’s only a school bus, on its way to pick up happy children who don’t have to wait for packages yet.
Then it’s back to stress induced boredom. I’m beginning to believe to the rumors people tell of this particular delivering service. The ones that state, ‘they arrive when they want.” I guess I wanted to have faith you know. You want to have faith when your chips are in. Sigh. At least I’m losing nothing but time. But is that not what’s most valuable?