How To Survive Waiting For Your Ride

Just getting home from seeing my Doctor. He likes to be with you when he is filling out questioners from my lawyer, so with an appointment, I came in.

As I may have mentioned before I get to schedule trips to and from anything that is relatable to medical issues. 

You call ahead, three days before at least, schedule the trip and when asked how long you are going to be there, you give them a time. I usually make it for an hour.

Like all other systems of this nature, there are going to be mishaps, lack of communication and general chaos. If you adapt to all this you can come out ahead of the game...most of the time.

The last appointment despite my best efforts I had an hour to kill. It was a bright, blue-skied fairly warm day so I decided to lay out on the bench the building has out front.

I'm laying there using my purse as a pillow which gave me an idea for 'pillow purses', don't steal my idea, taking my glasses off to bask in the sun which felt wonderful on my face. Us Easterners need all the help we can get with our ghost faces.

I hear a car pull up and turn off. Then I hear a voice asking, "Are you o.k.? I assured her I was fine and off she went. That happened last week.

Today I only got to see my Doc for around fifteen minutes leaving me once again time to kill. I always chat with the receptionist and told her about what happened last week while I was waiting for my ride.

We both thought that sure wouldn't be good for business if they had a dead body out front. That's like pulling up to a restaurant seeing an ambulance parked out front. The room burst into laughter with the receptionist saying, "Sheryl made everyone laugh, see you later". 

Now I had forty-five minutes to kill so I headed straight to what is now my bench, sat down, stretching out. Not ten minutes go by and I hear, "You scared the crap out of me when you moved", "I thought something was wrong". 

I looked up to see her head hanging over the railing where you go in. I assured this woman I was fine and smiled to myself because she was going in and if she mentioned me my receptionist was ready.

What's the moral of this story you ask? It's how something so mundane can make smiles which I seem to have a gift for.

What are you happy about?

“Peace begins with a smile..” 
― Mother Teresa