In a previous life, before I started writing fiction, I had dreams of becoming a potter. I even bought a big kiln, which almost burned the house down when I fired it ten years ago. This week, I finally sold it to a school in Manhattan. Though I miss working in clay, it was a relief (although it was quite harrowing to see the kiln floating above the sidewalk.) Upstairs, Dante and Elektra waited for the move to be complete, so that they could go down and explore the kiln-free basement. One of the little strays in the garden relaxed on the porch. She was not happy to see me. When the move was done, we celebrated with champagne in the garden. It had been a long road of doing nothing, but at least it was done. Or maybe it's wrong to say that I had "done nothing," giving that I had spent a lot of time in the garden, which was quite lush and beautiful, even though it wasn't a career. (Ditto with my fiction.)Life requires constant payment, to be sure, but sometimes it gives things back to you, just not in the way that you planned.