Now I have time to think

And I am actually glad that I can have some time to sit and mourn the dot and think about what to do with the rest of my life. Obviously the dream job would be to write, like it would be for thousands of people. What is not to love? Me, at home, wearing a caftan as I float around the house, the baby-bjorn slung casually over my shoulder as I throw witty epithet after witty epithet into the computer.

Or me, in serious mode, with eye glasses and a weighty volume at my elbow, a nanny shushing the children because: "Mommy really needs to concentrate on this book on feminism as a form of protest in the early 2000s".

Then there is me, in more fetching caftan, swanning around the world testing out the latest spas in some of the best hotels and feel mah-vellous dahling! I am feeling very good about all three careers. Anyone want to hire me?