I am, slowly, learning to live on 24 hours a day. This means two things to me: (1) not trying to do two day’s work in one afternoon, and (2) not wasting two days doing an afternoon’s work.

I’d generally consider myself a recovering workaholic. I like shiny objects and I’d like them all now. If there’s anything it’s possible to achieve, I’d like to achieve it, and in as short a time as possible.

But often “having it all” feels like spinning a plate on your nose while pushing an egg up a hill. You rise each morning like Sisyphus, bright with hope, dragging your boulder of work and dreams up the day’s mountain despite being doomed to failure because by 6 pm birds are plucking at your eyes, and your body won’t carry the load you’re trying to lift.

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