Every second Monday is Freelancing Day for me, and I’ve just realised it’s coming around again tomorrow. I wasn’t in the office at all last week, so I lost track of when it was. (Hmm. Wonder if everyone knows. “Um, guys? I’ve got tomorrow off, okay? Check the calendar.”)
So far it’s been a great idea that hasn’t quite worked out the way I wanted to. Instead of researching markets, drafting query letters and writing articles I’ve been doing dishes, washing clothes and vacuuming floors. And it doesn’t look like anyone’s launched “House Husband Monthly” magazine so I can write articles about my efforts.
(If anyone is thinking of launching a magazine like this, let me know. I’ve got a killer idea about making washing day easier by buying all of your clothes in the same colour.)
Clearly I need to break the habit, or the only thing I’ll have to show for my days off is a clean sink. So tomorrow I think I’ll grab a notepad and pen and get out of the house for a while.
A friend of mine said she dreams of writing at The Rocks in Sydney, gazing across the water to the Sydney Opera House. Now that will be a bit of a hike from Brisbane (and I have to be back by four for my son’s appointment with a specialist), but sitting by the water’s edge somewhere while writing sounds like a pretty good way to spend the day.
Or I might fulfil one of my own dreams and write while sitting in a cafe somewhere, sipping on a cappuccino and hoping I don’t spill it everywhere when I turn the page.
Sure, I have a few jobs I’ll need to do before I go. We’ve got a pile of dirty clothes so high it could be used as a venue for the winter Olympics, so I’ll need to do at least one load. And we’ve hired a skip so we can throw away some stuff cluttering the house, so I’ll make a start on filling that. But they should only take me an hour, which leaves most of the day for me to enjoy the lap of the waves, the hiss of an espresso machine, and the chatter of passers-by.
And enjoy the life I hope to live every day, instead of just one day a fortnight.