Have you ever felt like the minutes in your life serve no greater purpose than to lie in a heap the bottom of an hourglass? That is how I feel right now. I’m waiting to get my cart fixed.I’m waiting to see if an endeavor I started at the beginning of the year bears the fruit I hope it will. I’m waiting to see if I got played false once again or if I turn out happier than I ever thought possible. I’m trying to be optimistic on that one but I’m pretty sure I’m not doing so well. While I’m waiting the minutes of my life seem to pass me by like grains of sand passing from one end of the timer to another. I watch them fall but can only grasp aat tiny handfuls only to have them leak through my fingers almost before I can blink. The question I find myself asking is this: is a life spent waiting on certain conditions to be met any life at all? After a quarter of a century I still have no definitive answer. What do you think?