Motivation – for doing things you do not love – is a stubborn little fucker that lives at the back of the barn.
How is it that for so many years we are willing to pay the price, to put up with it, to barter our lives away for it – to drag that beast out of the barn against its will, all the while smiling and telling ourselves it’s for a worthy cause…?
My sanity for a toothpick
This is the only way I can keep my desktop from rattling as I type or slog my mouse around as I do the work that pays my bills.
Who among us would rest their sanity upon a sliver of wood?
the toothpick that keeps my desktop from rattling