Working from home. Remote worker. Freelancer. It sound so…freeing…doesn’t it? Wake up when you want. Work in your PJs. No commute. Blah, blah, blah. Blech! Seriously, though. It’s a pain in the rear, but I do it because I love it. Three years of building and I’m just now starting to get a solid footing.
My commute is however long it takes me to wander into the kitchen and make a pot of coffee. And since I try to avoid electrical things, I put the kettle on, put the mesh Melitta filter on the glass Bodum carafe and wait. One hand on the kettle handle partially to warm my hands on a cold Vermont morning and partially not to wake the rest of the house before the whistle blows. Yep, it’s something like 5 a.m. It’s the quietest time I have to work until about 10 a.m. Laptop steady on my lap and Della wedged between me and my chair’s armrest.
Is it word to take a break from writing to write something else? This morning I sent off an article about finding and keeping talent in the data and analytics. If you’ve got a science-y mindset and want to know are interested in big data, I’ve got ya covered kid. Next, though, I went back to the paranormal ghostwriting gig. Talk about a mindbending switcheroo! And then, another “like” popped in from last week’s Friday Musings #1 and I felt the need to re-read it, since it’s a top performing post and to my mind, I was rambling.
It’s the ability to know I may have a deadline but to have the freedom to take a break to write something else, cook, plan a vacation, exercise, walk the dog, and the list goes on. But, sometimes, the deadlines are too tight and I get lost in the project forgetting to eat, to sleep, and I become a machine. This is the downside to freelancing and owning your own business. This is the illusion of work/life balance. I’m trying to solve it, though, by setting a timer. Thanks Zarah! Sometimes the ticking is like watching the clock in the last class of the day in school or at five minutes to five on a Friday at the office. Oh, I’ve been there and done that, which is why I chose this.
The coffee grows cold in my cup And the dog sleeps to my right. The last vestiges of a St. V bouquet fights for life in the window Overlooking a blanket of white Deadlines loom like dirty dishes in the sink Leftovers in the fridge feed the family while I write The light burns bright day and night The timer dings, it's time to stop, rest for a while And dream © Lisa Street Rogers