It is hard to remember what we did with our lives before the internet… for me it’s been 18 years. It is hard to figure out what I can do that does not involve the internet… Finally I settle on writing, editing, and such.
It’s 11:30 am. The repairman was scheduled to be here at 11. I am sitting here, uncharacteristically anxious, contemplating that the man won’t even show up, that he will lie, that I will have to be another day without the ability to work.
It’s excruciatingly painful. I am diligently making room for the bad feelings, including them, breathing normally. Then I have a suspicion: is this mine? I normally don’t get anxious: I take life as it comes.