I realized the other day that I’ve done some kind of work every single day for as far back as I can remember. The only day I took off was the day my Grandpa died, and that wasn’t exactly what I’d call restful.
The thing about working for yourself, is that you never stop. On the weekends, I’m not working all day, but I’m still doing the ghost tour at a minimum. And even when no one comes, I drive out to the pick-up, wait 30 minutes (15 before, 10 after) for each tour (once on Thurs, twice on Fri and Sat, once on Sunday). When I don’t have people on the tour it’s actually more work than when I have 20 people, because waiting and not getting anybody drains me while doing the tour itself energizes me.
If there’s nothing going on, I can take the morning off and read or nap or do whatever I want. That’s the great thing about his deal. I can always do whatever I want. But if I’m not working, I’m looking for work, and when I’m not looking for work, I’m losing ground.
I don’t take time so much as I collapse. Honestly, it’s a good gig if you can get it, I haven’t felt this happy with my life since the last time I was making actual income (coincidentally, it was around this time last year). But I also realize that this is the time I need to take care of myself.
Which is why I’m writing this now. So that I can say to everybody that I’m not scheduling anything for Wednesday. I happen to be going to Seattle with Ben on Wednesday, so that’ll make it easier to avoid working.