It’s been over two years since I’ve been published by my WordPress blog. Because, to quote George Michael, “I’m so scaaaared … “
Ah, nothing like a good earworm to get me motivated.
What have I been doing with myself? Well, I picked up and moved across the country. Cut back my work hours knowing eventually I’d move to full-time freelance.
But before I could start focusing on my brave new career (or listen to those voices in my head saying, “hey, take some time to clear your mind. maybe try yoga?”), guilt-shadows of my 80-hour-a-workweek American martyr foremothers crept into my brain, pushing me to 24-hour workday marathons and picking up, you know, one or eight things that needed doing at my new second job. (“I can help with that. I have so much free time now.”)
I mean, that’s why we’re here, right? To please the workaholic gods.
What am I going to do with free time? (I know what you’re thinking. Grab that hook and get back to your favorite hobby, ya ‘knit’-wit — and I’d tell you it’s goddamned crochet.)
I guess this is where I want to start picking: As an American, do I have the right to the pursuit of unhappiness?
Well, I’m going to try.
Welcome to your ‘how to be a workaholic’ lifestyle post. Here’s what you need to do:
1) Have food, at least once a day.
I can split a party-size bag of tortilla chips in thirds for breakfast, lunch, and dinner — an ounce less than family size (thank you, I’m not a monster).
On days when breakfast and lunch are skipped (aka workdays, and extended work weekends), cram it all in for dinner or opt for 1 to 3 store-brand ice cream drumsticks in the evening (remember, half of those hours you’re working for free and generic treats tend to be less expensive). Those ‘sticks’ll mollify the low gut growl coming from a tummy numbed by cigarettes through most of the day.
2) Add lots of water.
It’s at least one pot of coffee per day for me — that’s 12 cups to your 8 glass-a-day recommendation, Dr. Internet. Bonus: My urine keeps coyotes at bay—I wish I could say it has the same effect on UTIs, but that’s the price you pay. No time for a pee break when you’re in “the zone” (read: working under procrastination-addled, down-to-the-wire deadlines).
3) Rarely shower — and before you ask, no, it’s not a protect-the-environment, conserve-our-resources sort of thing. I just don’t feel motivated to do it. I work from home, people. I conference call.
If you’ve been pickling your butt cheeks as well as I have, try these cries to the neighbors across the street ogling your oil-and-smoke-patinated complexion and bathrobe-clad body as you dash to the car for that forgotten pack of smokes: “Colorado River, y’all! Doing my part.” *Two-finger kiss to the earth and sky.*
Or try a conspiracy theory. Here’s one I’m working on: “I’m waiting for my next shipment of raw water. The stuff coming from the faucet is just riddled with vaccines.”
Okay, it’s a weak one. But I don’t have time for more. I’ve got to get to that shower today. Maybe a George Michael playlist would help.