Every week for the last decade has felt like Groundhog’s Day. Wake-up, work, workout, take care of the people I’m responsible for, eat, sometimes sleep, repeat. Between tasks, I return to my larcenist roots and steal time to create art. I give myself breadcrumbs, while everyone else feeds on the best of me. But I’m not a victim of circumstance. Just bad choices. At the dawn of a new week, I’m wondering which choices will lead to life in the clouds, away from the hogs and their grounds.