Nothing too exciting the past few days. Steadily working on my novel, but my freak-outs about it are becoming more frequent. I'm still averaging about 1000 words a day. Which is impressive, I guess. But I have 30 days to get to 50,000 words. 30 x 1000=30,000, which means at some point I have to make up a 20,000 deficit. Yikes. Today I had a day off and worked extra hard and got about 3,000, so maybe if I have more spurts like that I'll be OK. As Sara P. observed, though, even if we don't hit 50,000 and don't make the Web page of fame, we've still learned a lot and it's been a very valuable exercise. Trying to keep that in mind.

On Thursday I went to a doctor here for the first time, basically just to establish myself as a patient and get a flu shot. A friend at work recommended this guy and said he was good, but, well, I would put him more in terms of "sketchy." Consider:
1) The office is on the ground floor of an apartment high-rise, you have to walk down this scary dark hall to get to the actual office.
2) The receptionist/staffers, while very nice and seemingly efficient people, do their work out in the open (not behind glass or in a separate room of any kind), so you can hear them calling in prescriptions for people and dealing with insurance stuff. Kinda sketch. More sketchy is the fact that the doctor would follow patients back into the waiting room after an exam and kinda finish up consultations there. "So yeah, just keep on that medication for your back and we'll see how your X-rays show up."
3) The actual exam rooms are made from walled-off sections of what used to be apartment bedrooms. The walls, much like in my apartment, are very thin. So much so that I could hear every word of what the doctor and patient were saying to each other in the next room. No privacy at all.
4) The kicker, a conversation between this doctor and me:
DOCTOR: So what do you do for a living?
ME: I'm a copy editor at a newspaper.
DOCTOR: Oh, a newspaper! I always wanted to work in newspapers.
ME: Um, yeah, it's pretty fun, I like it.
DOCTOR: Yeah, my dad made me go to med school.

And that's it! No addendum to that statement, no "but it turned out to be my passion," or, say "turns out I'm a lot better at treating patients than I am writing headlines" ... nope. Just a wistful commentary on career path, and me thanking God I'm in there for nothing more complicated (or embarrassing, what with the thin walls) than a flu shot.

So next time, a different doctor, I think. Preferably one who actually WANTS to be a doctor, and, while he or she is at it, doesn't have an office in the basement of an apartment building. Guess I'm picky, but that's just the way it has to be.

LISTENING TO: A borrowed copy of the new TOM PETTY CD, very good. Lots of biting, but dead-on (and damn catchy) commentary on the state of today's pop music business, emphasis on business. Also hearing a borrowed copy of a GOURDS CD, on which is a very bluegrass cover of "Gin and Juice." I know it sounds weird, but it works, you just have to trust me.