Keeping Books, Running Numbers
Once upon a time, I parasailed (twice!) over the bay at Puerta Vallarta. That took no gumption at all; I was stupid at the time. However a current activity of mine is drawing on my reserves of daring: I'm keeping the financial books for my husband's psychotherapy practice, since he left a large practice and went solo a year and a half ago.
Oh, mon Dieu!
I am a wordy person, not a numerical person. Evidence: In first grade, my friend at the next desk was roaring through workbook 2, while I was still sullenly staring at a middle page of workbook 1. (She has become composer and professor of composing, Meira Warshauer; music people are good at math, you know.) In junior high, I had to get a tutor to get through algebra II. In high school, I was remanded to unaccelerated chemistry. Once, as an older person who should have known better, I tried to learn how to sell mortgages and utterly failed. Everyone has more sense than to buy a mortgage from me. (I did bond well with people on the phone; some of them continued to want to chat after they'd already bought their refinancing from someone else.)
It's true that I've done the bookkeeping on my writing/critiquing business for these 39 years. But my business and I have grown up together.
Now I'm not only dealing with a new kind of numbers not my own, I'm also trying to make the records look more legible, more professional, less tatty-little-notebook. In short, I'm using a spreadsheet. I'm giving it until the end of the year and if things don't get better, I'm getting a second little notebook.
My husband, whose income and outgo I am recording, seems trusting except for the occasional flash of alarm when he thinks I can find a particular paper quickly.
At some point this airplane is surely going to level off in the air and it will become second nature, right?
Categories: enhancing creativity