Now that I’m a decade into the freelance lifestyle those closest to me have learned not to laugh when I’m all “Uff-da. I worked six hours today.”

It sounds ridiculous. I know. Six hours? Working six hours in late-stage capitalism America is like a day off. Well, maybe for wage-workers. Office drones like to complainibrag? bragplain? about how much time they spend working. “I was there before the sun rose and I didn’t leave until the vernal equinox.”

I used to be that person. But I was also that person who blogged multiple times a day from the office, sat in innumerable pointless meetings, had 2 o’clock break & bake cookies with my co-workers, and generally spent half my office time decidedly not working. Don’t get all pious on me, we all do it. I’ve said on more than one occasion that I never had so much time as I did when I worked in an office.

This changes when you work billable hours. Now, I don’t get paid to kvetch with my co-workers. Or eat lunch. Or update my blog. Or eat cookies. Now, I only get paid for the time I work and 6 hours in one day is a lot.