We sit here, my laptop and I, at a small table in my local independent coffee shop, and try to look like those millionaires we’ve heard that run their empires on the free WiFi from such establishments.
My coffee’s cold; I’ve squandered half my allotted time; and I only have an empty Inbox to show for it.
Just how do I step out from reading to doing?
Spring Fever is coursing though my veins. I’m aching to grow and move and DO. So why do I feel like I’m wading though molasses?
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