I got up today without an alarm, as is my usual practice. Dressed, cooked breakfast and brewed coffee. Ate while I caught up on my emails. Then made a grocery run. I like to go weekday mornings to avoid busy times. I remember, in yesteryears, driving home from downtown Dallas, reaching my neighborhood about 7:00 p.m., yet I was with a mob of other people at the market, just wanting to be home already. So I like to avoid those after-work hours to give the nine-to-fivers one less person in their way.
Now I'm home, groceries in their proper places, my hot Café Bustelo espresso at hand, my cats within petting distance and my windows open to enjoy the breeze and sounds of nature. Even though it may reach a tad over ninety degrees today, that is way better than the one-hundred-plus heat of not too many days ago. I'm seated at my computer and can see outside, which may or may not be a good thing. I happen to think it is okay, as long as I pay more attention to my screen than the goings-on in my yard.
I'm in black flip-flops, a taupe prairie skirt topped by a man's white cotton undershirt (love those!). I think I need red nails to match my outfit. So later I'll give myself a mani-pedi. Meanwhile, frozen chicken breasts are thawing, to be breaded and baked for dinner.
And I'm at work.
Yes, too glorious to be true, but it is nonetheless. I am my best boss ever--ha!
I'm an author. And when not creating, I'm a freelance copy editor for
two large publishers. Either way, my computer and I are inseparable. I love my profession so much that I work holidays, weekends, my birthday, Christmas, New Year's.
I work probably eleven hours a day. Most days. Now I don't get paid for all that, as I love to research, to read, to learn more about my craft and then to blog about what I've found. I enjoy every bit of it. With no commute, I saved myself fifteen hours a week. And have put them to better use than by incurring a three-thousand-mile oil change every season.
Now there was one day I did copy edit for eleven hours. That was a brutal day. My mind is not set up for that. But I can weather six to eight hours, seven days a week. I happen to think I'm very productive in that mode.
I wish everyone had the freedom I do. To work those sleepless nights from 2:00 a.m. to 6:00 a.m. and then sleep to noon to be revived to resume work from noon to six that evening. To work around errands. To work outside once the weather gets comfortably into the seventies and hopefully the mosquitoes are gone.
For that matter, if money were no object, I could work at the beach, in a woodsy cabin or on a boat I suppose. As long as I have battery power and an occasional internet connection, I'm golden.
It took me several years to reach this glorious pinnacle, but it was worth every bump. In this my new career, worry is such a waste of energy. It stifles the creativity. And things usually work out. Granted I had to get a McJob in two really lean times, but I'm fully at home now. With steady work and expected earnings that exceed my monthly bills. That, along with my health, is my definition of wealth.
I've never been more broke nor as happy--except at the birth of my son. That remains the ultimate high. But these days, they are right on up there. And now that I've done without for a period, I'm ever-so-grateful for the plenty on its way. And will be a better steward of it because of my new heightened insight.
So, Happy Friday, all! I wish you manifold blessings.
Denise Barker, author, blogger, copy editor