Hooked Since I last wrote, I've fulfilled two items on my to-do list: Breakfast for my wife (twice), and called parents and grandmother. I thought the third item would be the easiest, but I was wrong. I enjoy walking. I love hiking. Carrying my own weight rather than a sense of urgency is therapeutic in ways no medicine can match. It may not be a national park, but I walk five minutes to work. There are 1,440 minutes in a day. So why don't I dedicate 30 of them to an evening stroll? # Routine Most days after I work, I come home to someone who needs me like I need her. Bottom line, she needs to get out, so we go. When we get back it's time to kick back, clean up, do a few chores, catch up on reading. Although sometimes we watch videos on the 'net, we banned television long ago. I stopped buying books a while back. My ukulele sits in a corner. Why can't I find time to walk? # Relief Months' ends can be stressful. Bills and rent make me anxious, a worry that becomes its own preoccupation. But twice a month I get a reprieve. I never see paper stubs or cash. Rather, I see digits change on my bank's website. As I push buttons to move them around, I feel powerful. Watching my credit card return to zero provides immense satisfaction. Debt? Haha! Anxiety builds for two weeks. Then — paycheck! Ahhh. The sense of well-being, of instant relief, is therapeutic in ways no medicine can match. # More If I don't work late, freelance occupies my evenings. When I take someone important to me out, she reads to the sound my my laptop's clacking keyboard. Though sporadic, being paid based on the quality of my work is gratifying. PayPal and a little ego boost. Ahhh. What's wrong with that? And every month, I crave walking a little less.