…that I just don’t posses. I think I’m patient, but really I’m not. I try, but it doesn’t always work out. No other example illustrates this better than the work done on the house. My lack of patience usually results in the injury of a scratched leg, swollen fingers, a bruised forehead, splinter to the palm, a major cut or moment where i seriously think that I may have broken a bone. The irony is that injuries force me to slow down. Pain has a funny way of doing that, and for “Mr. Impatient” like me, well… it’s an inconvenience I’d rather not deal with.

On Sunday, I woke up and took a shower in the hopes of putting in another long day at the house. Apparently my lack of sleep, my frustration that I “overslept” and the inability to possess patience to wash my hair correctly, allowed soap to get into my right eye. Now I am not talking a small amount of soap. This was a “Hey, let’s rinse all the soap from the hair into my right eye… just pour it in.”

It felt like Satan himself took a crap on my right eye after eating spicy Thai takeout.

For the next four hours I motored around the house with my burning right eye closed. Left eye struggling to pick up the slack. I am not sure how I even drove to to the house. My eye was bloodshot. Swollen. Depth perception, gone. Vision, impaired. I think I’d rather take a Wiffle Ball shot to the nuts than go through that again.

Thankfully by the afternoon the eye returned to work, and it was back to business as usual. With one exception: I am trying to be more patient. Let’s just say I got the message. Loud and clear. Even if it’s not naturally in my line of sight.