It’s 10:53 p.m. and I have just forced myself to stop working, but that’s only because I’m going to go to bed as soon as The Hold Steady stop singing on The Colbert Report.
Today as I was preparing lunch to go with my daily “Roseanne” reruns I got excited because I had new peppercorns to put in the grinder. This is only mildly more embarrassing than Sunday when I got excited about SuperT stocking big jars of Skippy Creamy Natural Peanut Butter.
When you spend most of the day alone with cats and the radio and the internet it doesn’t take much to excite you. Also, when you work as a freelance writer cheap lunches you make at home are a key to survival.
Saturday will mark the first anniversary of my unemploymentiversary. I should call it my self-employmentiversary, but there’s something about the term self-employment that sounds masturbatory. It just rubs me the wrong way*.
After buying Supergenius HQ and keeping I Will Dare going for ten years, this past year might be one of my proudest achievements. It hasn’t been easy.
Being the sole breadwinner makes going without a steady paycheck terrifying. It took months to stop worrying about my inevitable destitution and probable basement dwelling. I still have to refrain from applying for every interesting job that pops up. It hasn’t been easy either, because there’ve been a lot of interesting jobs popping.
I’ve learned a lot in the past twelve months not the least of which is don’t carry your water bottle in the same bag as your computer. The other things all involve super lame cliches:
Do what you love and the money will come. I’m sorry, it’s true. I get paid to write words in my pajamas. The pajamas part is a total side benefit. My clients pay me the same amount if I wear jeans.
Working for yourself is the best job ever. Bleh, I know. But it’s true too. I’m thisclose to turning into one of those people who go on and on about how awesome working for yourself is and how I wished I’d done it sooner and that everyone should quit their jobs immediately are totally right. The only thing that keeps me from being that person is the fact that I hate people who talk about work all the time. Work is boring, I’d rather talk about “Roseanne” reruns.
So yay! One whole year of cube-freedom. I just want to give thanks and be grateful tonight while I was in the mood, because tomorrow when I get up at 6 a.m. to Tibblesit I’m not going to be too happy about working until 11 p.m.
*I slay me. I tried really really hard to not point out that joke because laughing at your own jokes is lame, but here I am pointing out to you how funny I think I am.