That's my bag.

I have a problem with patience. My problem is that I don't have very much of it.

It's funny - I'm pretty patient with people, especially those who work in customer service because, hey, I've been there. I know how difficult it is to deal with people who want something from you. So I'm not talking about that.

Here's a story to give you an idea how my problem: For New Years 2005 I had planned to go to New Jersey with Erin to stay at our friend Shannon's house on the shore. I was supposed to drive up to Erin's house in Northern Virginia from my parents' house and then we were going to drive up to the Dirty Jersey. The day before I was supposed to leave, my iPod, a Christmas present from my parents, came in the mail. I somehow convinced them to let me drive to my apartment in Harrisonburg that night because "it would be an easier drive from there to Erin's house." That is, of course, a lie; I just wanted to load my iPod. In fact, Harrisonburg is just as far from NoVA as Montross is, and the best part is that my mom totally knew what I was trying to do and made fun of me for it. I mean, she didn't care since I was the one willing to drive three hours and pay more money in gas so I could have music on my iPod a week before returning back to school.

Today is my first day of class. It starts at 5:45. I get out of work at four. I should just go straight to the Lincoln Park campus instead of going home because I'll save an extra bus ride, but instead I've decided to go back to the apartment first because there's a chance that the new messenger bag I ordered has arrived and I really, really want it. Now. I want it NOW.

I hate that I'm this aware of my neuroses and lack of virtues.