An Honest Day’s Work (Is Not for Me)
A while back I worked for a gifts and housewares store that gave this blog many good posts, mostly about greeting cards. It was not a bad job, as far as retail goes. I still live within walking distance of the shop, and from time to time if they get short-staffed they give me a call, since I usually am working from home and pretty much on my own schedule.
But man, was volunteering to cover for the shipping guys for a whole week a mistake.
Not that the work is particularly hard or anything. It involves a predictable amount of picking cardboard boxes up and then putting cardboard boxes down, which sure, is not great fun after three or four hours, but as far as manual labor goes it’s on the pretty easy end of the scale.
No, the problem is that I’ve completely forgotten how to organize my life around actual work shifts.
I write from home, mostly. My schedule is basically my own every day. I work plenty of hours, but I work them intermittently, interspersed with breaks to feed myself, read a book, pet the cats, drink myself into a stupor; pretty much whatever I want. As long as I make deadline it’s all good. It makes it really easy to get long to-do lists checked off, but hard to manage even basic tasks if I suddenly have to be efficient about my time management.
So that whole quitting your day job thing I recommended a while back? I stand by that, now that I’ve had a while to compare the options. Trying to be a writer and a worker and a functional housemate is too much for any one over-educated dilettante (I don’t even have to be a spouse/partner anymore, just a tolerable flatmate, and it’s still hard).
And yes, now that you mention it, it did take me until after 5:00 PM to get a blog post up today. You see what I mean?
Hell with this whole “honest day’s work” thing, f’serious.