Yeeee HA! My boss is gone today. So I can finally get to updating my blog, surfing, figuring out how to do that cool ass “acronym defined by hover” thing that D has on her new site, and possibly finding a spell check plug in that will actually work (if anyone suggests ajax I am likely to snap, just FYI). Oh, and I need to shop for wedding presents and mittens later as well (which, MITTENS?!?! already!?!?!? I hate Iowa.)
This rebellious glee I’m feeling is stupid really. Technically, I don’t have a boss. I’m “self-employed”. I am 100% commission based. And my “boss” really doesn’t give a shit what I do one way or the other. If I make money, he makes money too and that’s dandy. And if I don’t? Well, he’s not going to starve regardless.
But. Well, I feel guilty if I’m not busting my ass every minute of every day. It’s insane the way I let unsubstantiated guilt affect me. I do stupid things like stay until 5 – and pay for child care – even if I stop working at 4:30. I know it’s dumb – and more than a bit childish – but I continue to do it anyway.
But today I am guilt free to work or fuck off at my own discretion.
And I choose fuck off.
Which reminds me, one of my friends recently logged into my blog – I gave her the link, it’s OK – and she said that I swear a lot.
I was surprised because I assumed that since she talks to me multiple times a day, she would anticipate the swearing. I was pretty sure that I swear a lot in “real lif”. In fact, all the men I work with are constantly blushing at my profanity.
People always say to “write like you talk”. But in all honesty, I don’t blog like I write. Blogging for me is different then other writing. Apparently I don’t blog like I talk either.
I blog like I think.
Which is fucking scary. Apparently the inner voice in my head is a sailor mouthed truck driver with a chip on her shoulder.
That explains the road rage.