I got a new coffee mug at the farmer's market Saturday. It's exciting.
So, yesterday I noticed Marvin had on a pair of pants I'd never seen before. They weren't big wide clown pants or long stripy pants that came with stilts or anything, they were just normal sort of brown pants, but I'd never seen him wearing them. So I said, "Where'd you get those pants?" And he said, "Pants store."
Marvin is on a roll lately, folks. A question-answering roll.
Other than that I have nothing to tell you. Oh, but you know what I wish? I wish I could freelance again. Oh, I wish it so bad.
I am finding this handle on my new mug kind of hard to grip. It's sort of dramatically high.
Anyway, I freelanced for years. Years. And it seems like that whole time was just happiness and wine and roses and butterflies and light, which I'm sure it wasn't. I know I worked ALL THE TIME, because when you work out of your home clients take that to mean you are available all the time–10 p.m., Sunday afternoons–and I had trouble turning down work at first.
But, oh, how lovely it was to not have to rush anywhere or sit in an office with no work to do, being unable to go home because QUITTING TIME IS AT 5! Who cares if there is absolutely no work! We go home at 5, you hear me!?
And how lovely it was to have cats as coworkers. Francis sat on my lap at least eight hours a day. Everything I proofread was around the body of that cat. When I got a real job again it felt weird to not have him on me.
And my across-the-street neighbor got home around 3 each day, so if I saw her sometimes I'd go over there and we'd have coffee at her dining room table. Right there in the middle of the day like that. And it was coffee with real caffeine, cause who cared when I fell asleep? Oh, that was the life.
I am going to start hoping that I get to freelance and maybe it will come true. DO YOU HEAR THAT, PLACES I USED TO WORK FOR IN LOS ANGELES?
Carp. I have to rush to work now. And yes, I said carp on purpose.