Yesterday was a mile marker for me. One year ago, I was inside my favorite little coffee shop in Kalamazoo. I'd left the surgeon's office having been cleared to start running again post knee surgery and stopped to get my favorite drink. The look I was given by my gal Allison clued me into the fact that something was amiss. It was December 2020. My neighbors had moved. My office had announced we'd be staying home at least another six months, and I was about to learn my favorite coffee shop was closing their doors. That was the final straw. I knew I needed to make a change. I was at the end of my rope and I could either suck it up and keep struggling, or I could make a change. I got in my car, called my apartment complex and said, "Aside from the inordinate amount of money it costs to break a lease, what else do I need to know? How much of a notice do you need?" They said 45 days. I responded, "What is 45 days from right now?" They said, "January 31...