More Working for the Man

I hate to admit it, but working for the man gives you a purpose in life.
It's as simple -- and as stupid -- as that.
Just gives you something to do. Something to get up for. Get dressed for. Go out for.
Unexpectedly got a few more days work at my freelance job. Trying to build it up to at least two weeks a month -- half the time. That may not be enough financially -- especially since my son lives with us now and is unemployed.
He's got the six-week (unpaid) internship coming up soon, and then after that, he'll have to get anything he can find to make some money.
But back to me.
Working half the time, two weeks a month, sounds kinda nice time-wise, if we can swing it financially.
Or do I need more?
London is so damned expensive. I hate that.
It's a great city, but just chock-a-block with places where you want to spend money. Like New York, you need money to live well here. And like New York, a lot of people look like they have serious money here.
Besides the cash, I just feel better, more energized, on the days I have to get up and go to work.
Gotta get dressed. Do my hair and make-up.
Ride my bike to the Tube, run up the stairs at the station, walk to the office at the other end.
And the office is in a cool part of town, just off Regent and Oxford Streets, at the top of Carnaby Street, that old sixties hang-out.
Today, it was brilliantly sunny -- like it can oddly be here at times -- so I walked the old narrow streets full of shops, pubs, cafes and people at lunchtime.
And then being at the office, you end up having a half-dozen interesting conversations with people during the day.
One woman told me about a fabulous weekend she just had at a resort in Egypt. Really cheap deals to great hotels in Egypt now, apparently. Only a couple hours by plane.
Not to mention the exercise your brain gets stringing words together all day long.
Got on the Tube at night. Even managed to snag a seat. Which does not happen often in the evening.
The Evening Standard, the afternoon paper, is free now (amazing), so they just hand it to you at the station as you're walking in. Much better than the old free rag.
So yeah, I'll have a Standard. Thank you kindly, sir.
Commuting. With the throngs.
It can be a slog here.
But it's probably worth it. In every way.