So, I accomplished absolutely nothing in 2020. Between my wild hair and intense inactivity, the only way to distinguish between a sloth and me is one of us only poops once every seven days (It's the sloth, in case you were wondering).
Do I enjoy working as a copywriter? Usually. But some days, I'd rather have bamboo splinters shoved under my fingernails.
The Year of Sean has been going on for 364 days but sadly is coming to an end. One more official blissful day of freedom remains before I'm compelled by the Faustian agreement I made to look for a regular job. Of course, as the Houseguest pointed out, there could be a Year of Sean Part II if no one hires me.
Do you ever wonder if you're wasting your time blogging and ask yourself whether you should quit? That was the question I was asking myself the other day.