Suzanne and Jerry Have a Chat

An actual recent conversation in our house:

Me:  Do you think my big fat ego can take me being a cleaning lady?

Suzanne:  What could possibly be left of your big fat ego?

It’s been two years already.  It’s been two years since I really left the corporate world.  Oh I’ve dabbled a bit since but it’s really just been a dabble here and a dabble there.

I'm presently spending a lot of time working on a business but it remains in the pre-revenue stage.  I’ve noticed that the natural habitat of “the dabble” appears to be the pre-revenue stage.  This is a bad stage.  This is a really, really bad stage.  I hate this stage.

Anyway, my big fat guilty conscience could sure use to contribute a little more financially.  It’s pretty interesting how the progressive male mind works.  When you’re on the other side, mired in the fray you think  - I can handle this ego thing.  I’m above it all for I am metrosexualman...mercifully deprived of the ravages of ego (I know, I know, shotty’d from the Time Bandits…AGAIN!  But please bask in the use of such a millennial urban term juxtaposed against a seminal thirty-year-old movie.) Where was I again? Oh yeah...well apparently I’m not so good at handling this ego thing.  My ego is as strong as it ever was; in fact with this whole emancipation exercise I’m going through, I think my ego has turned into a bit of a mind parasite, lurking under the surface just waiting to pounce.

Anyway so here I am, of no volition but my own, stuck yet again in the pre-revenue stage.

So I’m like really clean.  Not just personal hygiene clean, but I’m really quite fastidious about my surroundings.  A substantial drive south of OCD but certainly within commuting distance.  I’m almost passionate about my surroundings.

 

What?  What was that word I used?  Passionate?  Here I’ve been racking what’s left of my psychonautic brain to figure out what I’m both passionate and really competent at that I could earn some money doing.  But just a second here - cleaning houses?  I guess I just always thought I would be aiming at something that’s perceived a little differently than this – you know, like heading up a post-apocalyptic new world order or at the very least somehow becoming fabulously wealthy writing comedy for an American late-night hack.

My minds eye just never pictured me fulfilling my true potential pushing around an Electrolux, dressed like Lucille Ball, in a cheap print dress with a handkerchief wrapped around my head.

I’ve really grown accustomed to this lifestyle though.  This working from home thing is awesome.  It’s awesome for a whole bunch of reasons.  First off, I’ve got a wife who really enjoys her work and who loves the idea of me being at home finding my success.  For this I will be forever grateful.

 

Otherwise, the house is all looked after; the dog is all looked after.  I’m up at six-thirty every morning.  I take a full two hours to work out, grab a sauna and meditate.  Think of that luxury.  By 8:30ish I’m at the desk furiously working at hurdling the pre-revenue stage.  The fires going - the house is warm.  A couple of lattes, a smoothie, a healthy lunch prepared anyway I like.  A dog walk in the fresh air and by 5:00ish I can start dealing with dinner.  Sounds okay doesn’t it?

If only I can just find a way to appease my big fat ego and my big fat guilty conscience, it’ll play a whole lot better for me.  So I think I’m going to do it.  I’m going to become a cleaning lady.  I’ll work Monday and Tuesday’s, two appointments each day.  That way based on the standard of having your home cleaned once every two weeks, I need a mere eight clients.

By the way, sorry for the politically incorrect misogynistic faux pas in this post, not to mention the mental image of my legs in a cheap print dress.