Counters vs. timers
There are two types of people in the world: those who, when they swim, count laps; and those who, when they swim, measure time.
I’m a counter. I can’t imagine swimming without counting laps, and I can’t imagine stopping after anything other than a neat multiple of ten (or preferably, twenty). And I’m a scrupulously honest counter, too: if I lose count, I round back down to the last count I remember, rather than guessing or rounding up. I usually have a target in mind when I start, although sometimes I move the finish line as I swim: 80 laps, but 60 at minimum and 100 if things are going, well, swimmingly.
Melinda’s a timer, preferring to swim for a measured amount of time: half an hour, 45 minutes, or even “as long as you do”, and never counts laps.
I’m not sure if this is related to, or completely orthogonal to, the browsing vs. searching habits I noticed in our use of iTunes…
I’m a counter. I can’t imagine swimming without counting laps, and I can’t imagine stopping after anything other than a neat multiple of ten (or preferably, twenty). And I’m a scrupulously honest counter, too: if I lose count, I round back down to the last count I remember, rather than guessing or rounding up. I usually have a target in mind when I start, although sometimes I move the finish line as I swim: 80 laps, but 60 at minimum and 100 if things are going, well, swimmingly.
Melinda’s a timer, preferring to swim for a measured amount of time: half an hour, 45 minutes, or even “as long as you do”, and never counts laps.
I’m not sure if this is related to, or completely orthogonal to, the browsing vs. searching habits I noticed in our use of iTunes…
