A Very Important Post

Listen up. In writing this post, I set out with a very particular goal in mind, one of extreme significance in consideration of the potential outcome of my evening, the purpose of this post being to delay, for as long as I possibly can, work on my article about the situation in a certain African country, which is, ahem, due tomorrow.

Now, I am not against spreading the word about the atrocities that are currently taking place in certain regions in Africa, and I am certainly not against people wanting to correct these scenarios. I am just, for lack of a better word, tired.

After all, I did drive aaaaaaaaall the way into downtown Phoenix for an interview today. And if you've ever driven in rush hour traffic here, you know it's no picnic. Also, I wrote two web articles before that. Also, I'm going on 67 hours of work since last Friday. (And I will no doubt be burning the candle at both ends tonight. But let's not stop being in denial about that for a moment.)

See, I'm trying this new thing where I keep track of how many hours I work per day so that at the end of every week I'll know exactly why I feel so darn exhausted. So far it's mostly managed to depress me. Usually in the moments in which I consider the fact that in this wonderful industry payment often lags four to eight weeks. But sometimes it makes me feel great because ... no, just kidding, turns out I can't think of any reason why working that many hours in one week consistently is "great."

One of the things I was happy to leave behind when I left the full-time job at the magazine because my hours there were so INSANE. Well, it turns out, the hours I'm keeping working from home aren't a whole lot different ... which is less than pleasant ... however, I don't think it will stay like this for years, because I'll eventually work my way up to nabbing higher-paying clients and therefore be able to work fewer hours. Plus, I can drink wine while I work. Hello?! Bonus! (By the way, don't drink and write. Or do. Apparently it worked for the Ernest Hemingways of the world. Actually, that's a bad example. Nevermind. Moving on ...)

[Intermission while I check People.com.]

[45 minutes later ...]

OK, so I should probably go write that article now. I mean, I am supposed to be a professional ...

But first I'm taking a tour of the fridge. Maybe I still have some ice cream. C'mon, it's brain food!