Freelance Casalinghe

It's been a few weeks, yes, it has. And I can't say that I have been doing anything more than coming to terms with life as a freelancer. In other words, I am at home all the time, with my dog, my make-up and my potential for schizophrenia as main entertainment. I could write that I also have a scooter and streaming capabilities, but that would be too much information.

The Professor has been overly generous in his patience with my "I am in a box. I can't leave" procrastination excuses thinly disguised as tantrums. Often times, I suspect that he enjoys the way I procrastinate-- I plot gourmet recipes, label spice bottles and solve stain problems all by 12 pm. And more importantly, I solve his shit. Yep, I do and he thinks I like it. Not exactly. I just do it because any little victory gives me confidence when I am stressed out about writing.

Stressed: flippant, flighty, grouchy and a little bit scared.

By Italian definition, I could be considered a casalinga plus libero professionista, i.e. a freelance casalinga. I homemake, shake and bake when I need to, such as moments of writer's block, aforementioned stress and laughter. So please don't be surprised if I am not traipsing around the city on Monday mornings. Who would anyway? For the Green Acres casalinga, Monday mornings mean can't-miss sales pitches. See below.

If there are any other freelance casalinghe out there, please drop me a line.
Maybe we can start a book club too.

(Sarcasm dripping with my veiled attempt at a new procrastination initiative)