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喜欢计算生活中琐事花费的时间，喜欢通过计算和比较来督促自己，力图达到生活的平衡，可是生活远非数学方程式那么简单。偶然一次，陪伴女儿时我忘记了时间。随后，我开始刻意不去计较时间。渐渐地，内心的焦虑被平静所取代…… I don’t count. That is, I don’t count stuff. I used to count stuff a lot: the number of French fries I stole off my husband’s plate at any given dinner and the amount of time I’d need to spend on the treadmill to make up for it the next day; the square footage of a friend’s apartment (its likely purchase price, my host’s presumed salary, and thus the difference between hers and mine); and, especially when my kids were babies, the minutes/hours between the time my husband said he would come home and rescue me and the actual moment when he sauntered through the door.[1] I counted in order to keep track of my deficiencies and accomplishments and then calculate the magic number that would help me reach a particular goal. I counted as a way of life. But for the most part I’ve stopped all that. And while I’m not a big believer in much of anything, I would say that not counting has saved my life. As a preternaturally anxious person, perhaps I was born to tally.[2] I was also a committed dancer throughout my teens, and like a lot of people studying ballet, I counted the number of classes I took after school and on weekends. I berated[3] myself if I fell below six per week. I also counted fouetté turns and measured the height of my grands battements.[4] | 
