Tuesday, March 20, 2012

What I HEARD was....

Last week I was having a taxes disconnect.  I really didn't notice, but Bruce and Margo thought I was a) going deaf, b) developing Alzheimers, c) losing my marbles.

I would be sitting on the couch (knitting a sock) with the TV on (background noise) and was thinking about the taxes and what I had to get together to go to the accountant.  Bruce or Margo would walk into the room and ask me a question or make a statement.  I would respond and they would stand there.... stunned.

What he SAID was: "I have to work tomorrow and the next day and I probably won't get home until late."

What my RESPONSE was: "Great, then you'll have time tomorrow to call the stupid lawyer about the stupid check that they made out to the wrong stupid person."  There he stands.... stunned.

What I HEARD was: "I have to work (I wonder if I have all of the  expense paperwork calculated)won't (does that show up in the register report?) late."

Eventually the stunned wore off and he repeated his original statement.  Louder, and slower.

What Margo SAID was:  "I brought up what you wanted, diced tomatoes in tomato juice." (for dinner)

What my RESPONSE was: "Well, I know there's some down there, you just didn't look in the right place.  It's with the vegetables, not with the juice."

What I HEARD was: "I brought up (did I remember to include the deductions for health insurance?) tomato juice."

Again, stunned.  But Margo is onto me, she turned on her heel, flounced out of the room and returned with the offending can of  "DICED TOMATOES IN TOMATO JUICE, MOTHER!!!"  Okay, I got it.

The taxes are to the accountant, I only forgot one thing and that was easily fixed.  I appear to have gotten over my selective hearing. (knit one, knit 2 tog, YO, knit 3)  What?

Friday, March 9, 2012

Patience is a Virtue

I've finally figured it out.  It has taken me a long time.  I am the victim of PATIENCE, or at least the concept of patience.  Here's what happens...

I'm sitting, knitting.  It's usually socks because they are small and fit in my bag.  Anyway, it could be anything, a hat even.  A non-knitter begins a conversation asking what I am knitting.  After making the appropriate noises over my project, they let me have it...  "I wish I could knit, but I just don't have the patience."


"Lady," I think (because they usually are women), "you have absolutely NO IDEA with whom you are speaking."  (and yes, I do think that way, my mom was a librarian and a primary school teacher).

Patience.  It may be a virtue but it is NOT one of mine. 

I suffer no fools gladly, I am  "Difficult to Manage" (per my past employment evaluations).  If you ask a silly question, you are liable to get a highly technical, factually accurate answer designed to make you feel like a complete boob.  I write scathing letters to companies, personalities and elected officials on a regular basis.  I have a toxic vocabulary and can impugn your ancestry all the way back to the last ice age in words so long and complex you need an unabridged dictionary to sort them out.  Patience my hiney.

In the past, I have responded to the Impatient Lady with a smile.  "Oh no!  I exclaimed.  "I am one of the LEAST patient humans on the planet.  I do this so I don't sit and twitch."

It didn't work.  I always got that smile.  You know the one... that smile that implies that you are really Job in disguise, and refuse to admit that you have endless amounts of patience (as evidenced by the knitting) and are concealing your light under a bushel of denial.  Nothing you can possibly do or say at this point will deter the Impatient Lady from her conviction that I possess PATIENCE.

As I say, I have figured it out, finally.  When the Impatient  Lady lets me have it with the patience line, I look up, carefully examine her and smile.  Then I let her have it.

"I don't have to be patient.  I'm fast".

BOOM!  There it is! Not a self deprecating disclaimer about my lack of patience.  I have countered her patience argument with a statement so blatantly pompous and self assured that usually she laughs in astonishment!

Some Impatient Ladies back slowly away and sit down quietly, but most start a long and pleasant conversation about handwork and I usually refer them to my Local Yarn Shop (sometimes I even have their business card in with my yarn).

I'm attempting to convert the world, one knitter at a time.  If I have to do it by being pompous, so be it.