Do you have any character traits that you know aren’t your best but you can’t really be bothered to try to improve things? That’s me, with waiting in line. I’m a terrible, terrible line-waiter. I become a seething ball of misanthropic feelings that cause me to do things like roll my eyes like a petulant teenager. Plus, for reasons that I will never understand, the places where the lines are held are always too hot or too cold, and someone is always popping their gum. I am so bad at waiting in line, in fact, that I rarely choose to do so, and the only time it ever really comes into play is when I’m travelling, which luckily is a pretty rare event, because I’m fairly certain that Mike spends most of the time we’re in the customs line wondering why he didn’t marry a more patient woman. Every time there is a news story that features a long line-up — a movie premiere, or Black Friday sales, for example — I always think there’s just NO WAY, you know? I don’t know if it’s because of how much I hate waiting around, or if it’s just that I don’t really LIKE anything THAT much, but I can say with some certainty that there is nothing on this earthly plain that I enjoy enough to endure hours and hours in a group of other people waiting for the same thing. The line could have Paul Rudd at the end of it, wearing a suit and planning to feed me cheesecake and read to me from Leonard Cohen’s poetry and tell me my I am smart and my hair is shiny, and the most I’d probably last is about 20 minutes before storming off, huffily muttering “ForGET it!” under my breath.