Hands down, one of my favorite things about working for myself is the flexibility. To be able to work when you want, on what you want, is a beautiful thing. It’s energizing and good-scary and sometimes makes you want to pinch yourself just to ensure that you’re not actually dreaming the seemingly unlimited freedoms that lay before you.
It’s also incredibly liberating, and causes you to really look inside yourself. I’ve learned a lot the past eighteen months.
And by a lot I really mean A LOT.
Having the flexibility to work when you want, stated another way, is having the flexibility to not work when you don’t want.
And that, I argue, is even more of an amazing thing.
In the working world, with different levels of strictness, you are told when to be where, and when to do what. Unless you’re throwing up from the flu or using your precious vacation hours or, I don’t know, giving birth, you’re expected to be there. You’re expected to take care of those tasks for which you’re responsible.
Today, I wasn’t feelin’ it.
I wasn’t sick, I wasn’t incapacitated in any major way, I just…I just…I just didn’t want to work.
I was blah. I was ehh. I was lacking in focus and enthusiasm and energy.
Why? I don’t know. I just was. I mean, I wasn’t.
You know? It was “one of those days.”
Most of the day I sat on the deck, reading this:
Drinking this:
And, well, that’s about it.
There are reminders every day of how fortunate I am to be able to live this lifestyle, to have these freedoms. Sometimes I recognize those reminders, sometimes I don’t.
One of “those days,” regardless of the effects they have on my week’s to-do list, always remind me of my fortune.
And for that, I can’t help but love them.
I'm an author, marketer, and mommy who loves to read, write, and drink coffee. My husband and I live in suburban Kansas City with our two little girls. This site chronicles my world. Thanks for stopping by!
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