I bought myself flowers for my birthday.

Big, fluffy yellow and orange mums and daisies.

I can see them peeking out of the living room window when I'm walking home.

They make me so happy.

a lance for hire

So going freelance seems easy - and the work is, but all the other stuff is quite a truckload of crapola.

If I am my own company, I am the marketer, designer, accountant, bookkeeper - and perhaps most importantly, tax payer. Things normal offices have staff for. Things that take up a lot of time and effort sorting out (until I make enough to justify getting fancy accountancy webernet stuffs, an exhorbitant expense for where I am at right now).

So all of a sudden I am spending my evenings formatting invoices and logging my hours and creating spreadsheets for my expenses.

I need a filing system. And a paper bag. stat.

promises

Remember how last year we had to go get ourselves a pseudo-marriage-visa?

It was kind of a big thing.

While we will get married (and we discuss it at length, now it may be one of our only narrow windows to get him into the States), it's not yet. We can't afford it for a start.

BUT, the promise we did make still matters. a lot. (even if we refer to it as pre-engaged. though, I am no Egg. And he is no George Michael)

We wondered how to mark this moment. To trace the days where we still were committed, even if it wasn't quite the same thing.

And we decided to get each other rings as our Christmas present. Not wedding bands or even an engagement ring, but something that fit us. That worked for right now.

Today we got them. It's not flashy, or fancy. But we saw them in a jewelers, two in the window, side by side - and magically, just the right fit for our two fingers. Like it was meant to be. Serendipity.

They aren't awesome enough to say all the things I mean (though I tried among the snowdrops and the clanging churchbells and sunshine this morning when I slipped it on his finger), but they look a bit like this.

And I couldn't be happier.

I have decided to have drinks, to mark my leaving of this life.

And all of a sudden I've invited almost 200 people in this city.

I guess being marginally famous means I know a lot of folk.

I even have a snazzy website to keep track of rsvp's and generally stalk my guests with pie charts and status updates and everything.

Also I am quite proud of my silly little invite. See what I did there?

Have a look here

Self Employed

There are many hard and weird things about jumping ship.

The sorrow I expected, the freedom seemed promising.

But now, when days stretch before me with everything and nothing to do, it's a little daunting, and on occasion more than a little upsetting.

Going freelance means flexible.

It means I am in charge.

It means I only take work I want.

(except when in a fit of panic, I say yes to anything because I am terrified of the gas bill - which happens more than I'd like to admit)

It also means no rules. I set my own deadlines. I'm the only one checking up on me. When it's work I'm none too keen on, it's like having a toddler in my brain.

Plus, the whole reason I left work was to have time. to stop. to think. to do NOTHING. to have filled my weeks with laundry, dusting, email, facebook, and piles of work means I'm doing exactly the opposite.

I'm avoiding my life, because honestly, I don't know what I'm going to find. I know it's time to clear the rubble. Harvest the good and bin the rest.

But I don't know what goes in which pile.

Not being sure of what I'm about to lose is making it a scarier proposition than I expected.