This is how I realize i am still a product of the city: the owner at the laundry mat wanted to explain to me how the dryer works and I just wanted to shove multiple quarters in the slot and get out of there; I had water to get and writing to get through. I was meanwhile thinking (as he over-explained the mechanics of the machine), wow, I have very little patience for a person who lives without electricity. What does that say about me, about Grace? I guess it says that although I think I am patient, I am not. This goes for my writing career too. I want to be published and have entered this many (holding up four fingers) projects in a year. Whoa is me. Time to get my ass in gear. Wait, I have been saying that for a few years. It'll happen. For now...I need patience...and a glass of white wine. Bartender!
