I’ve had folks come up to me and proclaim, “Ohmygod, are you just looooooving being unemployed?”
I’ve also had friends send me job listings. Listings for jobs that have absolutely zero to do with me, my skills, or anything I might ever, in any lifetime, be interested in.
I am not unemployed. I am self-employed. There’s a huge difference.
Self-employed means that I don’t wear pantyhose. Ever. It also means I do stuff in my own time on my own schedule. Stuff like run up our water bill.
I’m sitting in a chair just outside the cracked door to my bathroom. Inside the bathroom, 2 of my dogs are lounging on their very large beds and enjoying their mom-made sauna. The shower is on and the fan is off.
One of the labradoodles sounds like she has the croup. Our vet appointment isn’t for a few more hours, so white trash medspa it is.
The other labradoodle clearly would prefer not to be trapped in a humid bathroom with his Darth Vader-sounding sister. However, she freaks when they are separated, so he’s doing his moist sibling duty.
If I were working for Globotron, both labradoodles would be out in their dog house, in the cold. Lady Doodle’s breathing sounds like a vacuum cleaner that just ate a sock.
A few months ago, I asked my mom about her experience as a working woman. She juggled kids and household obligations and marriage with a job that became increasingly more demanding. She was on the front lines during the floppy-tie-and-shoulder-pads 80s.
“Mom, I kind of feel like my generation has been sold a line with this whole ‘you can have it all’ thing,” I said. “What do you think? Is it possible to have it all?”
Now, my sweet mama can hold her own in all situations. However, my dad generally has cornered the market on profanity in their household. So, when she busts out a 4-letter word, you best take notice.
“Having it all is complete bullshit,” she said. And then she put her head on the kitchen table, overwhelmed at the challenge that is now 15 years in her rear-view mirror.
I trust she knows what she’s talking about. Right now, I’m happy to have the time to steam my dog’s lungs open. The self-employment is, admittedly, in its infancy. But I’m happy to be working on it.