OK, yes, this is a blog intended to allow our family and friends to join us as we prepare to take our family on the road, travel long-term, and, basically, live in a van down by the river. Though in the future we will be sharing with our loyal followers the splendour, simplicity, and stress of life on the road, in the meantime I aim to use this blog for one of its most valued purposes: procrastination.
As a writer I work from home; I bring in a paycheque every month and as I’ve mentioned, I am a writer, so automatically I consider this a pretty substantial victory in life. Beyond the feeling of professional accomplishment this provides me immediately upon waking (no, after coffee, because immediately upon waking I am reminded that I have a toddler demanding cereal, toast, yogurt, and spaghetti for breakfast), this post will focus on the fact that I work from home.
What I offer you here is a rare, behind-the-scenes, and totally (mostly) accurate depiction of my days as a freelance journalist. I have spared the inclusion of any details relating to the actual parenting of my daughter. Suffice to say that you can rest assured she is always fed, sometimes bathed, and infinitely loved.
Coffee. An IV drip would be preferable:
After pulling an all-nighter to avoid missing deadline and having to face well-dressed and fresh-faced parents in the parking lot of Henley’s school the next morning:
Contemplate my choice of wardrobe for the day:
Not my actual to-do list:
When my friends say how nice it is that I can work from home because of the free time it allows:
What I think my work looks like:
Sometimes it is actually my job to watch live streams of horse shows. Most of the time it is this:
Lunch break = crushing PR’s:
When daughter resists my desperate protests and stops napping in the afternoon. Workday hours now cut by two:
Press send. Celebrate my prowess (employment) in an industry I love:
*Note, this is not the manner in which I am paid.