Letting Go of Tracking Everything

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I remember sitting, awkwardly and painfully, in my rolling office chair, pulled up to the dining room table. Matt was holding the sleeping, days-old baby, and I was desperately trying to log into my email. I keyed my password into the laptop over and over, racking my brain for the right combination of letters and numbers, until I had to give up and reset it entirely. . . .

Read more from Letting Go of Tracking Everything at Northern Exposure

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