Back away from the dustbuster

May 12, 2009 | domesticity, work

There’s only so much housecleaning a girl can do before there isn’t any more.

My house is so. freaking. clean.

There is no unfolded laundry. No unswept floors.

Only the piles of filthy laundry and muddy pawprinted tiles that make up my thought processes as of late.

I blame the internet. I see all these fabulous people that have been able to make a living freelancing, doing web design, blogging for money, and I think, Jesus, my degree in English did squat for me, except enable me to have a solid appreciation for the Harlem Renaissance.

My capacity for being able to focus on ONE single thing is totally shot.

I’m impatient as all get out. I detest waiting.

I want immediate gratification of a business I haven’t even officially started. I’m already feeling defeated because I’m stuck. I’m desperately waiting for the other shoe to tumble into my lap.

I’m worried I won’t get enough business to start my little company. I leaped before I looked – there’s tons of “little companies” like mine out there. All alike. I’m worried my niche isn’t secure enough, that my unemployment certification won’t go through, that getting my hair colored red yesterday was a mistake instead of empowering. I worry that the amount of money I’ve saved since I graduated from college is going to get vacuumed out of my bank account. I’m worried about going into debt.

I’m throwing up my little white flag, people. I’m officially scared about not having a job.

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