As I watched my husband rush out of the house this morning with a zillion things to do (things he was dreading, but all part of his job), I looked down at the fabulous book in my hand and thought, "How is it possible (or fair) that my job is to read fantastic books and watch incredible movies, all in the name of research?
Are you kidding me?
My bedside table is swimming in books, and my netflix account is locked and loaded. My TV is poised with the latest movie (in this case, AWAY WE GO) and my twitter feed is a plethora of creativity. I spend my days taking notes about interesting quirks, or photographing unusual events. I read recipes with an eye towards metaphor, and smell flowers, thinking of poetry. My boss, otherwise known as me, suggests I work in my pjs with frequent coffee breaks. "And feel free to work-out whenever you want to," she adds as she eats another Twizzler.
How did I get this lucky? Paid or not, I am living in some kind of dream, having won the lottery of all jobs.
And I pray to God I never have to wake up.