For the first time in just over a month I do not have any looming spectre of extra work looking over my shoulder, nudging me that I should be paying attention to it instead of looking at funny pictures of hairnets. I’ve actually done all of the huge amounts of freelance I took on.
Don’t get me wrong, there will be more to come in future I’m sure – unless I’ve spectacularly nadgered up somewhere – but right now, the here and now, I am done.
But I don’t feel like a weight has been lifted. I don’t feel glad that I don’t have to spend my time outside of work doing more work. It’s quite odd. In fact, it might be my brain demanding I get more ‘lance in to sate its desires for more future-money (which will instantly disappear on unquantifiable nonsense, like ‘bills’ and ‘interest’ I HAVE NO INTEREST IN INTEREST).
Maybe my brain has taken to freelance like a Mancunian to heroin, or a Scouser to car theft. Maybe it needs that buzz. I know I thrive on deadlines and tend to turn into a useless hunk of meat when there’s no pressure on me, but I didn’t realise I could get addicted to paid homework.
Apparently I can, though. I wonder what the equivalent of methadone is for this kind of situation. Blogging every day, probably. OHNOWAIT.
Maybe it’s nothing to do with work and I’m just massively depressed* because I’m not happy with any element of my life right now, and things I thought were out of my head actually aren’t out of my head at all and are actually really bothering – and saddening – me quite a lot.
That, or I’m just a bit tired and hungry. I’ll have a jam sandwich, see what that does for the ol’ mood.
* “Slightly miffed”, in a less hyperboleic sense.