“It always amazes me how patient you are,” an old friend told me last night. I gaped at her, completely floored by the unexpected compliment.
It’s not that my friend rarely compliments me (although we’re at that stage of friendship where mutual affection is taken so for granted that insults are as loving as kisses, so compliments are totally unnecessary).
No, the surprise was in the particular quality of the compliment. I don’t expect to be complimented on patience any more than Hitler should expect to be complimented on his ethics.
On a self-made list of personal traits, “patience” would only appear under the title: Things I DON’T Have.