Dear Diary: Today, like most days, I’m running one-hundred and fifty miles in a lot of directions simultaneously. My in-box sounds like Ms. Pac Girl on steroids. Ping. Ping. Ping. Twenty-five unread emails and counting. I want to take my palm and smack myself upside the head...

I had a dream the other night, I got off an elevator and as the doors closed behind me they faded into the wall. I began running down what looked like an endless hallway. No doors. No exits. The walls were covered in purchase orders,...