When I started writing this post, I felt pretty good. I had a great day. I made the pickles that have been sitting in brine for the last 5 days. I wrote about nuclear physics for 2 hours, refreshed my memory on alpha and beta decay, and came up with a good analogy. I had a coffee at an actual coffee shop. I made wine in the morning with my husband, and cookies in the afternoon with my son. I even made it to meditation this evening. It felt spot on.
But when I sat down to write about it, I found myself coming again and again to the same question: if I can do so many things, why can’t I make a decent income? Or, truth be told, any income at all? So I’ve thrown out about 900 words on the topic of work-life balance. Because I don’t know what the answer is. And even though I was willing to call writing my work when I started this post, I can’t write any more this evening, because I’m having a serious case of The Frauds.