Right now I am sitting all alone in the office. The kids are upstairs being babysat by the tube, and Martin is outside planting trees. As you can see, there are other area's of my life that require my attention.
But I am working. Cause I have a job now, ya know.
I did just post at clubmom, and I am utterly thrilled to have a job writing. I am so thrilled that I gave myself a party. Mary was here the day I went live, and I wanted to cook a good meal. When Martin came home with his crew, I invited them to stay for dinner. I invited my sister, and her friend. Mary made stuffed portabella mushrooms, and rosemary bread. I made potato salad and steaks. It was a nice time with many people, but the best part was the conversation:
"Boy, I am just exhausted. I worked today ya know, and now I am peeling potatoes. There's just no rest for the working woman."
"I have a job ya know, I can pay for the vodka."
"I worked today ya know, it isn't like I had time to do the laundry."
"The phone's ringing, probably my editor. I have a job ya know."
I assume that my peeps thought it was adorable, the way I kept mentioning that I have a job (ya know), and not at all annoying.
One of the most awesome parts of having the job is that it buys me time on the computer. I finished my 'job' ten minutes ago, and now I am performing my hobby, but my spouse--the guy outside planting the trees I brought home--thinks I need some quiet time to perform my duties as an employed woman.
And that makes this new part of my life, the part where I get to say I am a writer, just as wonderful as I always thought it would be.