Working freelance as I have almost exclusively since I left Vogue in 1976 has an equal amount of pluses and minuses. Right now, I’m in the minus column, trying to weigh the importance of the next thing I must do–

a/ finalize the copy for the B&B’s web revise,

b/ fix the copy and layout for the Benefit/Dinner for the Kildonan school’s Diana King (she’s retiring, grand dame of dyslexia),

c/ try to find the missing months of income statements on Dennis’ computer in order to finish the income tax prep,

d/ go take a shower or

e/ continue to sit in Donegan’s DoneAgin’s shop as DD’s in the city freelancing himself, helping to shut down the Nate show.

Okay. I know I have to work on the web copy–my associate, Matthew is waiting for it so he can meet the deadline to build the revised site by end of February.

My morning was thrown off by e-mails that came from Lily and her tutor regarding lost homework. Mothering is my full time job, as any mother will attest. Immediately I ditched the shower that I wanted badly, and raced up to school but not before I dashed a statement from the defense that her work was done and I would find it! So great. She found it. I wasted my shower.

But on a more serious note, freelancing is great for the chance to be out on the streets when the rest of the work-a-day world isn’t. Or shopping without crowds, or even catching a Nate show mid afternoon. But as our Cobra from DD’s last job is slithering towards non-existence, freelancing is a curse. We need to work to get insurance. Everyone I talk to is in the same leaky boat–basing all of their decisions on how/where they’ll get insurance coverage, and the whole thing reeks. If I could, I’d do without, but that’s not reasonable; we’re a family and we have “conditions.”

I have freelanced way too long, for anyone to hire me full time, I fear. I have bundles and bushels of knowledge and experience, and I’ve designed my way through some mighty tough client-types including a presidential campaign (lost); I am great at solutions and team-building, both of which must be highly prized, and worthy of a paycheck and health insurance. N’est-ce pas?

Dennis has only recently taken on the mantle of freelance, and though he has labored in the mines of soap opera drama more than I in packaging for Fortune 500s, it looks like he will have to throw himself on the altar and get hired.

In the meantime, I have to meet my deadlines and get on with it. Though really,

f/ the treatment I am working on to put all of this freelancing behind me beckons from the yellow pad in my satchel. Not today, I don’t have the freedom to wander there, I freelance. My deadlines call. Adieu.