reinvention

After reading The Big Tiny, I am certain I could live happily, just like Dee Williams, in a tiny house. I’m equally certain someone else will have to build it for me.

One day she “had been a normal, middle-class, middle-of-the-road woman with a mortgage and a job and friends, who went running and climbing and paddling, racing in a thousand different directions at a thousand miles per hour.” Then suddenly she was a woman with ventricular tachycardia with torsades, an uncertain future, and follow up appointments with her cardiologist. It was at one such appointment that Williams’ doctor was