People Who Aren't in a Hurry

Yesterday morning was hectic. I had to get Taylor up before she was ready to wake up. Getting her dressed wasn't a problem, but her hair was unruly. I have started a new tactic for that: I give her the hairbrush and the flat iron and leave her alone for a while. She does a pretty good job.

I had to go to Walgreens, and Taylor didn't like that. "Why can't you do this later?" she asked. I really needed to get the photos for yesterday's Young Writers' Camp activity, so I marched into Walgreens with Taylor behind me complaining, "Why are you running?"

When we entered the store, I was instantly annoyed by what I saw: two people already standing at the Walgreens Photo Counter. I walked closer and soon learned that these hippies were new to photo developing. The saleslady was super helpful to these morons.

"How long will it take? Really? Just an hour?? AND you can put them on a CD? Wow!"  I waited patiently, or appeared to, I think.

When it was my turn to receive service, the saleslady kindly located my five packs of photos and began idle chit-chat with my daughter. I glanced at my cell phone to see the time.

The saleslady clicked on her keyboard a while and stared at her screen, head tilted back the way far-sighted people often do. "Let's see. We have a coupon, I think, when you develop more than three rolls."

I bit my lip. The saleslady turned back to my packages of photos and started opening one. "I didn't get a chance to see these. He developed them when I was out yesterday," she said. I knew what she would see if she opened the package; my Young Writers' Camp kids had taken all sorts of random pictures with their disposable cameras. If she looked through the photos, she would find snapshots of ceiling tiles, the elevator button panel, and the drink machines. I thought, "Who are you, the photo gestapo? Checking to see if I'm hiding Jews that I inexplicably chose to photograph as a memento of happy times in my attic?" I couldn't help myself. "I'm in a hurry," I said, and I placed my hand over the package of photos she was trying to open.

The saleslady was obviously ruffled by the new development, as if having to be somewhere by a certain time was unheard of.

"Well, okay," she said tartly.

When we walked out, Taylor again asked, "Why are you running?"

I said, "To make up for the time we just wasted," and when I heard myself, I realized how ridiculous it sounded.  Maybe I'm a little obsessive about being on time.