with Mir Kamin
I'm a freelance writer and mother of two working from home, which theoretically means I can set my own schedule so as to best accommodate my family. In reality, "flexible hours" often equals "working too much." Yes, I'm my own boss; no, that doesn't mean life is easy. It's hard to leave the office when you live there. But I love what I do and feel very lucky. And not just because I get paid to work in my pajamas.
To learn more about Mir, check out her profile on Work It, Mom! or visit her blog at http://www.wouldashoulda.com/
I make no secret of the fact that I’m a television junkie. It’s not the most highbrow of hobbies, granted, but I find it incredibly relaxing at the end of a long day to stare at the screen and lose myself in someone else’s story. Bonus points for entertainment that makes me laugh, but lately I’ve been watching more and more reality-based shows and realizing that my low-brow habit is actually having an unintended benefit—it’s growing my appreciation of my own job.
No, really. Hear me out!
I’ve always been quick to extol the virtues of freelancing; there are many things about it which I love, and which I feel I couldn’t get in any other setting. But there are things about it which wear on me, too, and particularly during this year—which has been difficult for numerous reasons—I guess you could say the bloom is off the rose, a bit.
And that’s where my nightly television habit is coming in handy.
Why, there’s something to be learned in so many places about the jobs I’m really, really glad I’ll never have.
Toddlers and Tiaras. I’m pretty sure that being a pageant mom is a full-time job. Also, my worst client on my very worst day was still way more manageable than a glitzed-up preschooler screaming for more Red Bull. I probably shouldn’t even admit that I ever watch this show, but I can’t help it. I don’t seek it out, but when it’s on, I have trouble turning it off. I’m fascinated. People live this way, spending enormous sums of money to drag their children to events, and once they’re there the moms let the kids verbally abuse them. Once the kid is on stage, the mom is out in the audience doing a pantomimed parody of whatever the kid’s supposed to be doing, and… oh, the whole thing has just made me so grateful to work in my little home office.
American Pickers. I enjoy this show very much, but I don’t even like trying to find something I’m pretty sure should be in my son’s closet. The idea of having to pick through other people’s junk piles just to make money gives me hives. Sure, those antique porcelain signs are pretty cool, but a life on the road, getting dirty, and never knowing what you might find is definitely not for me.
Deadliest Catch. Once upon a time this was a show that my husband watched, and somehow, eventually, I got sucked in. I don’t know how or why. But it turns out that crab fishing on the Bering Sea is kind of fascinating. However, I am a delicate flower who hates winter and gets seasick easily, so even though those guys make my yearly earnings in just a couple of months, no way would I want to be in their shoes. Er, boots.
Storage Wars. Storage Wars is basically just American Pickers happening at storage facilities instead of in the backwoods of tiny towns. Pick through junk, hope to find something awesome. Too much clutter. I’m still trying to find my desk under all the crap I keep meaning to pull off of it. No thank you to purposely choosing to dig through someone else’s junk.
House. Well first of all, it must be said that House had their series finale and I am terribly sad that it’s over. And second, I’m probably just really glad that I’m not a doctor. I am not cut out for life and death to hang on my decisions, I’m pretty sure. Also, I don’t think I’d enjoy working for a drug-addicted narcissist with no scruples. Even if I am really good at saying, “It’s not lupus. It’s never lupus.”
Glee. I’m eternally grateful that I’m no longer in high school, and while I have nothing but admiration and respect for those who teach our nation’s youth, no amount of money would be enough to make me spend all day, every day, with the responsibility of educating someone else’s children on my shoulders. Even if there was a lot of singing and fun costumes. (And I’m thinking that in real high schools… well, you know. More slushies-to-the-face and less show-choir-hijinks.)
I’m telling you: a couple of hours of TV at night and suddenly any job dissatisfaction I’m experiencing magically evaporates. Because it could always be worse—I could be doing what they’re doing, instead of what I love.
Subscribe to blog via RSS