I eat a lot of spaghetti right now. Clients procrastinate, projects lie unfinished, and their bean-counters sit on my hard-earned like covetous Gollums. I’ve nothing to do but wait, wait, and discover the montonous joys of baked veg.
In weeks like this I resent my freelance status, and envy the 9 to 5 hamster-wheelers with their regular paycheques. Sadly I’m just not cut out for cubicles, team-building, and timesheets. I tried it for years, and near the end was increasingly worried I might snap and end up on CNN.
So here I sit, in (hopefully temporary) penury, several puddles away from the mainstream, shopping my portfolio to clients like a shy, grimy-faced child tentatively proffering a half-licked lollipop.
Think I’ll take the dogs for a walk. At least that’s free.