It seems that with anything if a wait is involved it’s appreciated much more. It’s almost as if the anticipation of receiving said thing is a requirement for the complete enjoyment of it.
Almost ten weeks ago Amanda and I went shopping for some furniture. Mainly a bed suite and a mattress. At that time, we happened across a very nice lounge. One that was in a style that Amanda had been dreaming of owning for many years, and one that I had come to realise was a requirement for “comfortable” TV watching and console gaming. A couch large enough for two people to lie down on, and large enough to have a circle of people sitting on.
Ten weeks ago we put our order down, and we were told it would take 8-10 weeks for delivery as the lounge we wanted was made to order here in Sydney. At the time that didn’t seem that long. But as we drew nearer to the 8 week mark the wait started to become unbearable. I only called twice this time around to see what the status on the lounge was. I think the last time I had to wait for something as long as this I was on the phone every week requesting an update. You know, just to make sure things were moving along like clockwork (like everything should).
The night before the lounge was to be delivered I started to have a little anxiety attack… Will it fit through the door!?
Feverishly I measured the width of the three doors the lounge could enter through, and one window. The window opened widest, but was it tall enough? Time would tell. I told myself to stop worrying and went to bed.
The next morning I measured again. Why? Maybe the doors and window had grown overnight. You never know!!!
But the lounge would fit fine through one of the doors, my OCD anxiety could rest, and Amanda and I could relax on our new lounge.