Here’s a note I just received from a No More Mondays reader:
Yes, I still do 8.5 hours of time in my “human filing cabinet” each day. Yes, I still dream of breaking out and finding my true calling. Yes, I’m still scared to death to do so. I stopped dreaming so long ago that I can’t even remember what I loved to do when I was 20, much less 5. I just remember loving baseball more than anything else. Maybe I should get a glove and a ball and find a wall and play catch with myself for a dozen hours, and my dreams might start to come back. Hmmm. Maybe I will.












