At some point over the last few months, I decided to not have fun.

I don't know if it was the aftermath of several back-to-back work events, moving to a new home, an extraordinary and unexpected tax bill, pouring myself into writing a new book, or saying "I do" and settling into a new life. But at some point, I unconsciously decided to get serious.

As if I wouldn't do these things if I allowed myself to be happy in the meantime. As if my seriousness would make me more efficient, more successful, better at getting-shit-done. Somewhere along the line, I fell into my old habit of living life as one never-ending checklist and seeing each day as the hamster wheel that gets me no closer to what I'm truly wanting.