A few years ago, I don’t think I would have driven two hours for a cinnamon bun. Not because I didn’t enjoy cinnamon buns. Because I couldn’t have justified it. There was always something more practical to do. Laundry. Groceries. Work. Emails. A house to take care of. Someone who needed something. A day spent driving for the simple pleasure of trying a bakery felt… unnecessary. Maybe even a little irresponsible. At the time, I thought that was just who I was. Practical. Responsible. Efficient. I didn’t realize I had spent most of my life measuring every decision by its usefulness. That realization didn’t come until much later. It came…