As the weeks dragged on, nothing got any easier. My creativity was stifled by the constant requirement to answer to another human about my every move. I'd get lost in a project and time would slip away, and before I knew it, I'd missed check-ins or text messages. Zane was unforgiving, although not quite relentless, and my frustration was mounting by the minute when I didn't perceive any real progress toward my goal.
I hated just about everything involved in this learning process, but worst of all were the workouts. I f*****g despised exercising, which Zane and I did five days a week, an hour at a time. I'd been blessed with a physique that didn't require physical activity to look good-when I wasn't dying of depression and grief-which was great since I couldn't stand sweating.
Problem n
