…’d come back and reluctantly gotten a real job. Now, I dreaded eight hours of almost every weekday. I felt like it was wrong—morally wrong—for me to spend my time slumped in an ergonomically correct office chair, pecking at a plastic keyboard, while squinting into a bright computer screen. I should be doing something active and inspired, outdoorsy and creative. But it just hadn’t worked out. I didn’t have my dream job, and I was stuck.