I don’t set an alarm for Monday morning, but I wake up at my usual time anyway. Thanks so much, internal clock! But I don’t mind the early wake-up call as today is the first day of the rest of my life. I’m tempted to keep a count to see how many times I can say and think that phrase today but then decide it’s better if I don’t know.

Dressing in comfy cropped jeans, a fitted white T-shirt, and sneakers, I grab my laptop and purse and bound down the stairs, ready to meet the day.

The kitchen is empty, so Jack must not be up for work yet. I pause for a second at the front door as I realize I have no idea what Jack does for work. Mental note: stop being a selfish asshole and ask the new roommate some questions about himself.

I walk to Winner, one of the coffee shops I tested yesterday. I figure if there’s any truth to the whole “If you build it, they will come” nonsense, starting off the first day of the rest of my life at a place called Winner is bound to help. Also their croissants were bomb.

Croissant and latte in hand, I nab a spot at one of the outdoor tables and set up shop. In true Sadie style, I dive into my plans for the day. First, I make a list of all the bars within walking distance of the brownstone. I plan to stop by all of them in person throughout the week, hopefully finding one desperate enough to hire me even though I haven’t tended bar since college. Not that that was that long ago, mind you, but it’s been a few years. Second, I submerge myself in the web presences of all of Brooklyn’s top florists, taking copious notes on what to include on a website, how to market myself on Instagram, and ways to make myself stand out from the crowd. It becomes clear pretty quickly that being sustainable is going to be my niche, so I make a separate list of all the ways I want to make Bridge and Blooms the environmentally friendly florist of Mother Earth’s dreams.

As I fill page after page with to-do list items—an activity that usually centers me better than any meditation app ever could—I start to freak out a little bit. This is a lot. Like a lot a lot, more than I expected. The words start to blur on the page in front of me, and I put my pen down and close my eyes, forcing myself to take some deep breaths.

You can do this. Take it one task at a time, one day at a time.

The inner-monologue cheerleading works for about a minute.

Hey, at least when you fail, you can go back to finance and be a grunt for the rest of your life.