Andrew has finally decided that if he’s going to choose a direction, he might as well commit to it with his whole chest. Unfortunately, his brain has 47 tabs open, three unfinished character arcs, and the attention span of a goldfish on pre-workout. This book isn’t expected to magically turn him into a productivity machine overnight, but perhaps it’ll serve as a much-needed guideline as he attempts to lock the fuck in and stop treating his own life like a spectator sport.
