before we’re swallowed by the work machine
I’m looking for a job. Apparently that’s what people do when they want to make some money and not have to live in their mother’s laundry room for the rest of their lives. While I was initially afraid that working would cut into my party time, I’ve since remembered that I can go three days without even leaving the house or putting on a bra or anything, and maybe having a job would be good for me.
I’d like to write for a living again, but I don’t know how realistic that is right off the bat.
I have some leads. Let’s see where they go.