I am not a patient person.
My tendency in all things is to go quickly, to get it out of the way, to get it over and done with already. This mentality comes in handy with certain things: moving boxes, cleaning houses, putting away laundry, anything that requires physical strength, really.
But my boyfriend is the complete opposite. When we moved my things from New Hampshire to western Massachusetts, he took an entire morning to properly distribute the weight of my belongings in the trailer. Something about how if everything was too far forward it would take the weight off the front of his truck and make us spin out on the highway or something. I don’t know. What I do know is that he was at work on this for six hours and at one o’clock I snapped and started piling boxes on top of all of his perfectly placed furniture.
Lately my writing process has begun to feel similarly rushed.
Continue reading at She Writes.