When I worked in the office, I lived for weekends and holidays and anytime I didn't have to go to work. Even with jobs I loved, I dreaded Sunday nights (or Mondays on the long weekend) and knowing I had to get up early the next day and spend my days working for someone else and being with people I didn't necessarily like.
So, one of the things I like best about working as a freelancer is that lack of dread on Sunday nights. I make my own hours. I love that.
But one of the big adjustments has been that sometimes I don't get holidays. Like this weekend. I have been on my computer every spare moment, working on a bitch of an editing project. I hadn't procrastinated on the thing, but it has turned out to be so complicated that I can only concentrate on it for a few minutes at a time before my brain goes haywire. And that means it has taken me much longer than expected to finish it. I had hoped to have Saturday and Sunday to do things around the house, but instead, I've been parked here, working.
Oh, I still went out and had some fun. But this evening, instead of finishing the book I started reading last week or writing a letter or goofing around on Yahoo games, I'm working. (This blog is a break.) I hope I finish the editing tonight before I go to sleep. I'm beginning to doubt it. And that will mess up my day tomorrow.
Tomorrow. The holiday. I had no intentions on taking it as a holiday. Instead, I wanted to take advantage of not getting phone calls or emails. I was going to write and get caught up or ahead or something. But that likely won't happen now.
I know a lot of my writer friends try not to work on the weekends or holidays. I try not to as well. But sometimes you have to. When you take the job, you're responsible for getting it done. There's a lot of flexibility with this job, which is one of its best points, but the trade off is working when others have the day off.