The last couple of days have been scramble-tastic,* what with the logo-making and the client-troubleshooting and the endless, persistent teething with its related inconsolable screaming. One of these things is not like the other! One of these things does not belong! Part of me misses having an actual job**.
HowEVER, I am rocking the pajama-bottom and tee-shirt ensemble, and isn’t that what working at home is all about? I feel that this is what has been missing from my WAHM experience, and I may have to purchase several pairs of cute pajama bottoms simply so I can wear them while I work. Slouching around in sweats is so not the same thing.
Speaking of work (which we were, ad nauseaum) my OCD kicked into high gear this morning and I got up when Not So did, bringing my developmentally-impaired laptop upstairs with me so I could get things done while the baby slept. Which he did, adorably. My child is amazingly adorable. He is even adorable when he snores. The snoring thing = totally his daddy, too, since I am all girl and therefore incapable of something so coarse as snoring. (You bought that, right?)
My laptop pisses me off when I’m trying to get things done, seeing as it keeps denying the existence of a wireless signal in the middle of a page load, only to admit, grudgingly, that the signal is there once I turn Airport off and then on again. Rinse, repeat. STOP FUCKING WITH ME, STUPID LAPTOP! I KNOW THE SIGNAL IS THERE! I probably need a new Airport card, but now that the laptop has been relegated to Backup status it isn’t nearly so important. I mean, what, it’s too big of a deal for me to go downstairs and work on the Mac Mini? Especially, you know, if I’m rockin’ the pjs.
Given all that it isn’t surprising that I failed to get much done during my frenetic morning geek session. I still need to make some tweaks to one client’s site and send out some site estimates and finally, finally make another blog post and send out the March couldbe studios newsletter. First, though? I have to get this housework thing under control because OMG TOO MESSY CANNOT DEAL.
* Yes, I am aware I append far too many words with “-tastic” and I am seeking help.
** No, I am not suggesting that being a mother is not, in fact, a job. I am referring instead to the nine-to-five drudgery that I always complained about but had, at least, an end.