“I swear I’m gonna lose my mind,” I thought, helplessly pleading to the moon goddess, “If I’m guilty, just punish me already! Just don’t make me endure Raymond’s relentless grind!” Who knew? My hands and feet hadn’t stopped moving since I got to the office—like two tireless machines, churning away. I was stuck at the printer, banging out documents, and the *thunk-thunk-thunk* of the pages printing felt like the soundtrack to my chaotic life. In the brief moments the printer whirred, I dashed to the break room to brew some coffee, feeling like a whipped top spinning out of control. The anger from this non-stop hustle burned inside me like...