I am a bitch. A first class, top drawer, unmistakably horrid, bitch.
I apologise. Profusely.
I could say I was having a rough day… but that wears kinda thin the 26th day on the trot, doesn’t it?
I could say I was tired… but you know I like to be in bed before they switch our street lights off.
I could say I was unwell… but this is the girl who hasn’t been to hospital since she was born and has taken antibiotics less than ten times in her entire life. (Totes true, by the way.)
I have to admit it. It’s true. Self-employment has made me this way. And you, my cherished ones*, have had to bear the brunt of the freelance monster I’ve become. All I can do is try my best to explain… Continue reading