<— This was a day a work once

Work is just another four letter word that passes through my mouth with probably the same amount of vivaciousness as the others. For the past six years, I haven’t had an office job, instead opting for the freelance write life– which is a nail-biter but at least I get to pick my view. Today it’s the corner office, with surround sound from the Lungotevere. Yesterday, it was the lazy-boy, i.e. my bed- a comfy option, though not so great a view.

Most of my LA friends understand this lifestyle– they may find me “researching” for hours at a caffe or taking a nap after lunch, and it’s normal. The East Coasters tend to get a little antsy with my hours, my lack of office, my lack of consistent work. I don’t particularly care. I used to waste conversations explaining what “I did”. Now, I just don’t say anything. The Professor actually appreciates my somewhat schizophrenic lifestyle which alternates from completely shut in the house and at my computer, to completely out of the house and running around. And yes, every time I run around Rome, I am “working”.

For the next six weeks, I am working on a Rome book project as one of two authors. Yes, this book will draw from my years of Rome expertise and knowledge. No, this book will not be filled with my stories about getting kicked out of cabs for declaring my love for Juventus or dying my hair red to see if my local “Sei la pìu bella ragazza di Roma” neighbor would recognize me. It’s a traveler’s book, and will talk about all of the wonderful things to do in Rome. So, dear readers, if there is something you know that I don’t know (there are in fact many things, like word for peeler), I would love to know what you think must be included.

And if, dear reader, you are concerned that I really don’t work. It’s true. I don’t work, I write which means I spend my mornings trying to tire out a 16-month-old monster so that my afternoons are quiet and mine. We dance to ol’ school rap, which I find particularly inspiring when I have a block or need to tie fanciful words into an even more fancy sentence. Slick Rick is my favorite poet, next to Roald Dahl.

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