This freelance writer life-style is totally spoiling me. I'm forever ruined for office life.

If I had to go back to an office-job, I would totally fail at the social etiquette. My office-chat skills are sinking to an all-time low. I'd never know how to act at office birthday parties after the Cost-co cake and Cherry Coke sugar bomb has worn off. Am I forgetting how to take coffee breaks? Am I losing my ability to send off a chain e-mail on a whim....?

Now, if I need a break I just walk over a few feet and plop back into bed. You call this work? No, I don't. It's criminal, really. On some days I actually make money and the only reason I left the apartment is because I wanted somebody to notice my outfit. Yes, I have already written about the 24-7 work week and how I enjoy it far more than the civilian 9-5 life. But what I haven't mentioned is how downright WEIRD I am becoming. Or, WEIRD-ER I should say. It's just not natural to not have to get in your car and drive to a desk where you can plunk down your coffee-mug and stare at your computer screen as it starts-up and think to yourself, "Why was I an Art History major?"

It's just kind of un-American for each day to be different and special and unique and not your own version of Groundhog's day.

Just for today, I am developing into a freelance writer.