Nine months is a long time.
A few weeks ago, I realised that I did not have a shirt to wear on Canada Day. Nothing red. Nothing with a Maple Leaf.
So I went online, found such a shirt and ordered it. Within a few minutes, I received a confirmation (by e-mail) that my order had been received. The next day, I received an e-mail telling me that it had been shipped. And two days after my initial order, it arrived at my home.
Need? Want? Have.
There’s no need to wait anymore, we live in a world of instant gratification. When I want fruit, I do not have to wait until the fruit I want is in season — I just buy it. When I want to rent a movie, I do not go to the movie store, only to find out that all their copies of Zardoz are out … or worse, have to endure the stares of other customers as I cart around a box featuring Sean Connery in a mankini on the cover.
Instead, I can rent through online services — which would mean that I would either get it immediately (streaming!) or the next day. Or even rent movies immediately through my television set. The Future, where I live, is a grand place. Those rare times I need to wait — when a train is five minutes late, or the coffee is percolating — are times of injustice and worthy of unholy moaning. Ten minutes is a long time these days. I expect my problems to be solved and my desires to be satisfied in a manner that is so fast it surprises me. And it takes a lot to surprise me.
Which brings us to babies.
Despite living in The Future, we continue to make babies the old fashioned way — we still have not found a better way, indicating that we are not that far into The Future, as of yet. And the old fashioned way takes nine fucking months.
In case you forgot, nine months is a long time. It is approximately eighty times longer than it takes to think of something you have never thought of before, find out that they sell it on Amazon or eBay, buy it, and have it delivered to your front door.
Nine months is longer than many people stay at their jobs before looking for the next one, and longer than most Hollywood marriages.
Nine months is the duration of an entire school year. A whole year, children! Remember grade six? Didn’t it seem to drag on forever?
I am a patient person. I pride myself on this. But this is The Future, and patience can only last so long. I have been waiting on my daughter for over six months now, and she’s saying “only three more months.” Three months is a Quarter. End of Quarter is always crazy. I’m guessing moreso this time around.
I guess what I’m saying is … hurry up, young lady. We’re all waiting on you out here.