May. 29th, 2007

raybear: (mr. lunch)
I bought a pedometer the other day. It's the most exciting $6 I've spent in...at least a week. I have currently walked 1.50 miles since leaving the house to go to work. I'm about to do some laps around the office to figure out how long of a walk it actually is to cover both floors, which is an activity I tend to do during the 8 o'clock hour when I'm antsy, bored, trying to digest, etc. For someone whose brain is so soothed by number crunching, this device is terribly satisfying.

I also covered approximately 10 miles via my bike today, going up to Andersonville and back for therapy, and then to the library. When my therapist asked how far of a ride it was, he balked, saying he doesn't even manage to walk the 8 blocks from his house to his office. My first thought was "blank screen! blank screen!" which is what I'm inclined to think whenever he gives me any remotely small personal information about his life, which is partly in jest -- it's less to do with ideas about the therapeutic process and more to do with fears that these little details will get put onto the therapist character in my novel, and I'm trying to avoid (unintentionally) cannibalizing other people's lives. But my second thought was "8 blocks? How would you explain that to Al Gore??"

May 2010

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