The Other Bread & Milk (aka TheO) is one year old.
It makes me both proud, and a little sad. It means my self-imposed year of literary debauchery and frivolous unemployment is at an end. I have to go and find a job. Dammit.
Unfortunately I love staying at home writing all day. Much more so than traipsing into the city, spending all day imprisoned in an airless office devoid of all natural light, negotiating ridiculous/selfish/impractical personal agendas and office politics, doing a job I’m not sure makes any difference to a single person in the whole world.
See my problem?
Seriously considering moving us all into a tiny house and eating only Coles’ baked beans so I can carrying on writing. And I don’t even like baked beans.