Perforation Problems

So, I think I've settled on the topic of my first "novel." NOVEL. Even as I type that I have second thoughts. It feels like a really serious thing to have decided. Is it what I should be writing about? Is it something I can do well? Am I going to succeed at this, or fail? If I fail, does that mean I stop completely, or do I try something else? It could be a year before I actually finish this one. What if it sucks and then I have to just put it in a virtual drawer and forget about it? BUT. The thing is that I actually have to write something. And I feel reasonably good about having enough to say about this topic, and I can vaguely see the shapes of it coming together in my head into something that will mean something to people. If I do it well. If I succeed. IF IF IF IF. I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Fountain Square right now, writing with my friend Sarah. It works well because whenever I mention the "IFs" she just says, "It doesn't matter ri...

Most days both Michael and I end up walking around the house to get our 10,000 steps for the day. I'm not sure that's what Fitbit had in mind when they developed their little trackers, but that's what happens when you spend most of your day on a computer – suddenly it's dinner time and the sky is growing dark and you're 7,000 steps short. So you walk in circles around your living room. I have a circuit laid out that my feet know so well I can follow it while reading a book and not have to look up. Around the kitchen island clockwise, counter-clockwise around the dining room table, then down the hall, then back in a circle around the coffee table. Then repeat. I've done this millions of times. Around and around and around. Michael's path is different. It probably says something about the way our brains work. He goes in a straight line through the length of the house, from the side door through the living room, down the hallway and to his night stand. Then tur...