Freelance writing, for me, is the best thing since peanut butter. I love what I do and the freedom it allows me. Most nights, I’m up past 3 and 4 a.m. I love knowing I’m the only one responsible for how much money I earn (or how much I don’t earn) and I especially love being able to pull my hair up and spend my days with no shoes. Trust me, after two decades of heels and skirts, barefoot and cut off shorts as my wardrobe are nothing short of magical. Even though I work hard and 16 hour days are common, there’s always a sense of each day being like a Saturday. Maybe it’s the familiar Friday night mentality of knowing you can stay up late since you’re not expected at the office the next morning. I can tell you I promptly tossed my alarm clocks (all three of them) after making the decision to chase this dream. I’ve never regretted it.
Today is an actual Saturday and maybe it’s because the winds of change are kicking up and I can almost sense the cooler weather and I know those humidity-free days are just around the corner, it really feels like a Saturday. After a week of stormy weather and near-impossible deadlines, waking up today with no deadlines hovering too close, I felt a sense return of how I used to view weekends when I was behind a desk five days a week. I had an old high school friend come into town and the trip down memory lane was great too – so maybe it was just an all-around perfect day.
Here’s where it’s going to get really good: I have absolutely no plans tonight. I’m going to order in, paint my toes and watch classic movies all night. This is also something I haven’t done since beginning my new career. I’m thinking it’s long overdue. So here’s to poppy red nail polish, egg rolls and shrimp cabbage and of course, Cary Grant.