Then maybe you drop a pursuit or two, say, your previous livelihood, for example. And then maybe you add another, one that you know will prove useful to your down-the-road self, but that you're not too facile with now so it takes a lot of time. A lot of non-paying, stress-raising time.
And as you prune and cull and pitch and clean, you start to notice what's left, say, your heart's desire, for example. Which should be a series of shiny, happy moments for you and that organ in the top left quadrant of your chest cavity, only it feels more like someone took all your clothes away and hid them in a closet and then ripped off a wall of your house and replaced it with glass.
So instead of feeling happy and graceful and proud and clean, you feel like a lumpy, pigeon-toed spaz who's been thrust into Swan Lake against your will and everyone else's better judgment.
I've never said it before, but I'll say it now: the only change that's easy to make is four quarters for a dollar.
And only that when you've just come from the bank...