Philadelphia was hard on Rand.
Don’t get me wrong: it was well worth it, and he was grateful for the experience, but damn it, it was hard.
He stepped into his friend Wil’s shoes for a week, and ran his company, while Wil came to Seattle and did the same. I think it forced Rand to ask himself a lot of questions – about the decisions he’s made and the path he’s on, and that sort of self-interrogation can make you crazy. You can practically feel the stress buzzing under the surface of your skin.
And you start thinking, for a brief moment, that the old truism is wrong: everyone else might be 60% water, but you are fairly certain you are made up of mostly electricity.
Or possibly bees.
And so my husband could not relax. He could only buzz.
There was one thing, though, about stepping into Wil’s life that seemed to counteract all of that, though.
For the week he was in Philly, my husband had a dog. For the very first time in his life. And she seemed to like him.
She was having a rough week, too, I think, missing Wil. Somewhere along the way, she decided Rand was a suitable substitute. She tore through the house when she heard his voice. She curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed on which he lay. She followed him everywhere.
I think she helped him find a little bit of peace during that crazy week.
And maybe he returned the favor, to a small degree.