The Tree Horse

You burn through energy like it’s free. You volunteer to plan the trip, book every room, then give half your weekend to someone else’s crisis. Rules bore you unless you wrote them. You’d rather try it your way and fail than follow a script that works. By Sunday night you’re running on fumes, and next week you’ll do it all again.

You need a partner who laughs when you roast them and roasts you right back. Polite, careful types wilt around your honesty. Work comes alive when you get to perform: a pitch, a stage, a client meeting that needs rescuing. Money arrives in bursts. So does the spending, usually on concert tickets and last-minute flights rather than things.