Transitions

I gave up my bon-bon-eating, People's-Court-watching, freelance-writing life of leisure, freedom, and flexibility; and I have acquired gainful employment.  Full-time gainful employment.

I will not miss the broke-ness of the last two years, when new clients and new projects were few and far between.  I will not miss the narcissism and personality disorders of certain clients.  I will not miss having to fight for every dollar on every quote.  I will not miss clients who pay me late, even after agreeing to a contract which stipulates the terms of payment QUITE CLEARLY thankyouverymuch. I will especially not miss clients who ignore my invoices and don't pay at all.  (How do they sleep at night?)  And I will not miss being asked to work for free, on spec, on commission, on percentage, and other euphemisms for slavery. 

I will miss the bon-bons, Judge Marilyn, the flexibility, and the afternoon naps.  I will especially miss the thrill of landing a new client, and the intellectual and creative stimulation that comes from having a variety of projects from a variety of clients.

But I'm happy to be making this transition at this stage in my life and my career.  I like having an office to go to--especially one that is only 3.2 miles from my home!  I like having colleagues nearby, and camaraderie of the workplace.  I like not having short people follow me into the bathroom, and I like getting a regular paycheck.

I got my first paycheck on Wednesday, and spent a third of it on Friday getting two new tires after getting a flat on the way to work in the morning.  (Because they say, you know, that you can't just replace one old tire.)  Apparently, I ran over a jagged piece of metal (I heard the pop!), which did not play nice with the Bridgestone.  This was my third punctured tire in eight months.  Is the Universe trying to tell me something?

The young Peevies are adjusting well so far, ten days into the new schedule.  They are excited that their allowance will soon be reinstated, and that they get picked up by friends most days after school.  They are getting quite good at making their own breakfast and lunch--although I recently learned that A. Peevie has a tiny forgetting-his-lunch problem.  Fortunately, Mrs. LunchLady takes care of him.

Now I just need to complete my own transition adjustment, so that I can continue to regale my loyal Green Room subscribers with frequent tales of hilarity, woe, and the occasional bit of political propaganda.  I'm working on it, people.