The work I do from home is sporadic and needs a bit more supplementing so I can choose frivolous activities - like go to a cousin's wedding, or contemplate getting clothes - let alone paying off a debt of gratitude (and a lot of dosh) to my parents.
Oh I was rubbing my hands with glee as I trotted around reminding folks of what wonders I could provide.
Then my plans started to fracture, first with the call to be the emergency tuck shop lady, second with the realisation that they think they have a schmuck and it is easier for them not to ever find a replacement once I am ensconsed, and third with the wiping out of three pay days a week for a minimum wage position that only children will thank me for (if they don't succeed in scamming me first).
But I doggedly continued. It takes a lot of momentum to get up from my
Resultantly, for the first fortnight in ages I do not have a spare minute to scratch myself - let alone vacuum, wash, tidy, clean house, paint toenails, play ladies - hang on, strike those last two - be a good housefrau.
I haven't really been a good one yet. I don't miss the role - but man, I am starting to miss the results.
Put washing on in the middle of the night? Check. Set alarm to get up at crack of dawn to do everything I was meant to do today but didn't get around to? Check.
Look forward to money landing in the bank from being an exceptional worker on the days I am not the Tuck Shop Lady. Oh yes, mother - CHECK! Actually - be better if it were cash, but as long as it hits the bottom of the jar!
Of course, the universe must be in balance, so for every day I receive work at a really good rate, it seems windows will not be delivered to V's workplace and he gets a short week.
So universe, if you are listening to me - I am going to work like a