flotsam, there is something wrong with me

This crazy life

I’ve been tracking my steps diligently (pending replacement of my failed @Fitbit device notwithstanding). 

There are those who might say I obsess about it a bit, and I really can’t say I’m in a position to argue. But that’s not the crazy part (I don’t think).

On a lot of days, weather and schedule permitting, I round out my daily steps with a walk. Three+ round trip miles to and from my parents’ place (the “plus” depending on whether/which/how many little side streets I wander down en route). 3.2 if I loop around the other way, again depending on side streets. I have a short playlist of tunes for walking, steady beats to keep me on pace. Or I listen to podcasts…

Among them I’ve been listening to This American Life. I enjoy them; thought provoking, but also often touching. One weekend I listened on the way over to my folks’ to a chapter on last words, and I found myself tearing up – cue the waterworks – so much that I arrived slightly tearstreaked. 

Last night I listened to the episode entitled “The Perils of Intimacy” and I enjoyed it, thoughtful as always, each chapter touching on a different aspect, each worth a listen in their own right…

On my way home it got to be third chapter and the comedienne relaying her story got to the culmination of the story and oh Lord I laughed. Even while I cringed with her (that so totally could be me, and oh God, I’d want to die) I laughed. I laughed long and hard and out loud, in public. On the street. Like a crazy person. 

Totally worth it.