I feel a bit like the wheel on my MacBook, at the office we refer to it as the wheel of death, at home Finley squeals, “It’s workin’, it’s workin’.” I want to believe she’s right, that like that relentless little wheel, I am working. It would be so deeply reassuring to think that I am making forward progress, but I am admittedly getting caught up in some things that don’t seem to be doing anything in the way of moving me from the place that I am. I apologize that I am going to have to dance around the subject, but it is what it is—the is ironically being so much of what I do. I live in a small town, I work…
Categories: Random