So it seems that I have taken a job. Just like that. I swore a while ago that I would be all freelance-y and free-spirit-y forever and ever, that I would never again sit in a cubicle and be oppressed by the Man, and then the Man called and said, "Here's some money for you," and I said, "Hey, freelance life? Go sit at the curb until someone picks you up, because I want me some cash."
Yesterday I went to a meeting! In an office! A meeting where no one had yogurt smearings (smearings?) on their shoulders from their kids gnawing at their shirts, where people had Blackberries and wore pumps and slacks and ties (not all on one person, you understand) and seemed to not want to burst into hysterical giggles at the silliness of it all. And then they went, "We'll pay you! To do this thing!" And I was like "No shit!" and they were all "We totally mean it!" and so here I am, now, with a sort-of job. I mean, it's not a full-time job, and it's only for a year (a YEAR!) but now I have all this work, so, hmm.
Of course, Henry will have something to say about all this. I've come to see that kids take up a lot of time and energy, and he probably wouldn't understand it if I told him to play quietly until Mummy came home at 6 pm. So there's that. I'll have to get some help. Because we are still poor (until the cash money comes a-rolling in, YEE HAW), help will probably come in grandparental form, with all the psychic damage that implies. Not damage to him, of course--oh, he'll be just peachy.
I'm not sure what all this means for the blog. In addition to the job, there's my fiction writing, which has been woefully neglected, as I am addicted to the instant gratification of blogging. But attention must be paid, my friends. Attention must be paid! Then there's, you know, life. I can't just give up on the blog, I think, right? I can't. I will find a way. (Cue dramatic music, which swells to triumphant climax, then peters out into sad, aimless jabs at a toy piano. Plink. Plinkety. Plink.)