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My life is a waiting room. A big, huge waiting room. And I sit in it in the anticipation of many, many things. The small things, the big things, the good things. And when things are good, I expect karma to bite me in the ass, and that is when I anticipate the bad things.

I wait for the train, or for the rain to stop. I wait for the clock to strike 5, and then later at 7, and then at 10 on Wednesdays for Desperate Housewives. I wait for my clothes to dry. I wait for shops on Bond St to go on sale. I wait for payday, holidays, birthdays. I wait to go home. I wait for a miracle, a chance, a change. A bloody sign. I wait for my time, my turn. And my turn for a ticket to see Daniel Radcliffe baring it all in Equus. (Seriously, is there any Harry Potter left in there?)

And in this room, there's this bell. And for whom it tolls keeps everyone on their toes and waiting. And when a name is called, and if that name is not mine - that's ok. I wait.