When I was a waitress, I used to dream about being stuck on a fast treadmill, arms filled with plates piled high with all-you-can-eat crab legs. Not a pretty sight. And, like the guy on that midway ride that keeps on spinning people around backwards to loud music, all these angry customers would be yelling at me to go faster. Then I'd wake up.

Fast-forward to today and there's not a single crab leg in sight. Only I still have to carry around these proverbial plates. A lot of them. And I'm getting tired of this particular treadmill. Only trouble is I'm terrified to walk away from a "sure thing".

But what's the worst that could happen? I could always go back to...nope. My waitressing days were over a long time ago.