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A love letter to self-employment

Self-employment, I love you, and I’m not sure why I resisted your siren song for so long.

It is raining today and I’m on what I hope is the last day of a cold. I was up for an hour or so in the middle of the night after a fumbling, 1:30 a.m. sheet-and-jammie change for a 3-year-old who peed through his Pull-Up. (Again. Why so much pee at night?)

I’m not whining. That’s just life with kids. But because I work for myself, I do have the liberty of treating my stiff, tired body to a yoga class at 11:15 a.m., and I guarantee it’s going to help my productivity.

Yesterday, I signed up for an Adobe Illustrator class at the Armory Center for the Arts starting in January. You know who got to approve that decision? Me. Because I decide what kind of professional development I need and how much it’s worth.

On Friday, I’m attending Boost Entrepreneur’s “Manifest Over Breakfast” event in Encino, where I’ll work on laying down professional goals for 2020 and the coming decade and be inspired by the smart ladies in that crowd. Yet another decision made at the sole discretion of yours truly.

So on that note, I need to get back to it. I’ll just be sitting here in my home office, sipping coffee from my favorite mug, listening to “The Daily” without regard for disturbing my nonexistent coworkers.

Watching the rain out my front window
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