I Miss Having to Wait

Picture this: it's 2007, and you decide to go for a run early in the morning. Nothing crazy, just a couple of laps around the block.

You throw on your Nike Shox (as to why those were ever used for running...), gym shorts, a shirt, and grab something quick to eat. It's around 6 a.m. The sun is beginning to wake up, and an ever-so-clear blue sky is lifting from the darkness.

You walk into your garage and are immediately hit by the smell of old grass and gasoline from your mower (you know what awaits later in the day). On your way out, you hit the button that opens a creaky metal garage door.

The sprinklers are just getting started, but at that moment, all that matters is what's around you.

As you walk up your concrete driveway, you smell the grass, hear the crickets that seem to never go to sleep, and are greeted by a cool breeze that carries the stress away. You get to the street and stretch (let's be honest) for a minute or two, even though you know those light leg swings aren't going to erase years of hip pain.

You throw in your earbuds, the music starts, and the run begins—not a care in the world.

Oh, and your music?

It fits right in your pocket, light as a feather. No ads. No bright screen blinding you. Just your own tracks that you've paid for, four tiny buttons, and headphone cords that somehow manage to grab onto everything they can.

Of course, this isn't one of my memories.

I did start running at the age of eight, but I raw-dogged it — no music, just the sound of my breath and pain. I would actually sing sometimes, and tbh with you, I don't know why I ever did. It made running that much tougher, but I guess I was too bored to care.

The point of this story isn't to bring nostalgia center stage or convince more people to run. It's really to shine a light on where the world used to be.

We used to own most of our things.

You want a movie? Go buy it.

You need music for your next road trip? CDs provided hours of entertainment.

Most video games were one-offs, no extra purchase necessary.

Now, fast-forward to today.

Streaming services dominate the industry. We get to pay $10–$20 a month to watch whatever we want (on that specific service).

To be completely honest, I miss the days when you had to wait to watch your show.

You know what I mean?

I specifically remember looking ahead and planning my day around when the TV guide listed the newest episode of The Suite Life of Zack & Cody.

Or how about the arguments that came with who got the TV?

I lost that battle more times than I'd like to admit.

My sister and I would wait and plan our move to reach the couch and gain control of the remote. The only problem for me was that my ADHD would inevitably take me off course, and I'd completely forget what was at stake.

Before I knew it, I'd be "banished" to the guest bedroom with the box TV that only had 60 channels (the other 40 were either static or music).

It wasn't until I figured out how to turn on the technologically advanced TV upstairs that I finally got to watch my shows.

But that's not really the main point I'm getting at.

I guess I just wonder why we stopped owning things in exchange for convenience.

Does the ability to binge your favorite TV show or listen to any song on demand really improve your life? Maybe it does. I'm not naive enough to pretend I'd give up Spotify tomorrow.

But I do think we lost something along the way.

I miss having to wait.

I miss looking ahead at the TV guide and planning my day around a new episode. I miss buying a CD and listening to the same songs over and over because that's what I had. I miss when entertainment felt a little more intentional and a little less endless.

Somewhere along the way, convenience became the goal.

Now it's less about the quality of an experience and more about how much content I can fit into an hour. If I finish a show, there's another one waiting. If I get bored of a song, I have access to millions more. If I don't like a movie, I can start another one in seconds.

And yet, somehow, I feel less patient than I used to.

We live in such a consumer-driven world that we forget there was a time when all that mattered was the weather outside and how much daylight we had left before the streetlights came on.

Maybe we didn't just stop owning things.

Maybe we stopped appreciating them.

And tbh with you, I think we were a little better off because of it.