Perfect Storm

On my last day at work, I felt younger but still stressed.

Actually, it was an overwhelming onslaught of mixed blessings. It was my last day at Moody . . . but it was crazy busy. It was Opening Day, and the Cubs' new right fielder Kose-kay Fooka-dough-may erased a three-run deficit with a "welcome to Chicago, baby" homer in the ninth . . . only to see the Cubs pen blow it in the tenth. The day was sandwiched in between releases from the Counting Crows and R.E.M. . . . but neither album was all that great. Still, it wouldn't be life it was all great.

And now I have two days of freelancing in the books, and it's been much busier than I thought. There's been no working in my pajamas. No golf. No written-off business lunches. I'm just working. In normal daytime clothes. At home. Where I eat lunch. Without a lunch hour.

But there's also no driving. My family is there. And today, when the Cubs came on, I didn't check the score every now and then. I turned on the game and I watched it. And that's the beauty of baseball. Watching the game actually enhances your concentration on other things. Since the game ended, I can't get anything done. But during the game itself I was a fountain of ideas.

And that's the beauty of being self-employed. Your boss is very understanding about the peculiarities of your work habits.