Q: What do you do (the not out loud part - all day because I can tell you don't have a "real" job)?
A #1: Sit on my tush and eat truffles but don't worry I only eat the overpriced ones that come in fancy boxes.
A #2: Cruise around in my grass green ride listening to the radio.
A #3: Cruise around in my grass green ride, listening to the radio while I eat overpriced truffles that come in fancy boxes.
A #4: Nothing (because you're really just picking on me and I'm just going to fast forward to the answer that's going to make you feel better about yourself so I can get back to my work which you obviously find worthless).
I used to try to justify and defend my existence when asked this question until it came from a former neighbor who worked very part time on a substitute basis and stared down her nose at me while emphasizing the WHAT, ALL, DAY? I used to feel really terrible about myself because I no longer dart around with my head cut off in the morning, run my pantyhose, get my skirt muddy as I jump in my vehicle, and wage the war on making someone who's paid a lot more money than me look like a brilliant, well-organized businessman only to arrive partially triumphant every other Friday by waving a tiny piece of paper around at the nearest financial institution. Personally, I don't understand how anyone with a properly functioning visual cortex and/or olfactory system can't tell that I'm obviously doing something. My hair is a mess, I'm covered in sweat and dirt, and I smell like eau de farmette. For Pete's sake, my work gloves are even dirty. The real answer is that I tried to make a small farm in Northern Ohio profitable while Agri-Corp sprayed me and my organic hay and killed my hay. Hopefully, there will be no long term health issues from getting hit with some weird chemical cocktail that had me sick for the four days following the "off-target incident". I take care of animals that no one else wants. I don't get a paycheck but what I do get is priceless. Sadly, this isn't understood by what feels like anyone but The Beasts and The Husband. Before the construction adventure, I took care of everything in our lives so that The Husband could go do his job keeping others safe without any distractions. My "job" changed during construction. Though it's never been acknowledged, I played Architect and redesigned The Secret Cabin's floor plan. I played Engineer when I requested engineered headers there, support there, doubled joists there, demanded a rotted sill plate replaced, and had a real engineer come in and make sure everything was okay. I tried to play Project Manager to deaf ears with my charts of order of work, schedules, and deadlines. I was the job site hostess/cheerleader, plumber, clean up crew, the painter, heavy equipment operator, the estimator, expeditor, etc. While it was all unrecognized, unacknowledged, and unappreciated, I feel like I've lived all my life's career ambitions in one fell swoop. As the construction adventure winds down and I feel thankful for the adventure, maybe not so much the aggravation, I'm looking forward to trying to make a small farm in the Northwest Upper Peninsula of Michigan profitable, take care of my animal family, help The Husband so he, once again, can work completely undistracted, and tend to the myriad of little things that go with living at The Secret Cabin. You know---nothing.