If I were a mortician my business card would so read: I see dead people.

It’s these dreams that keep the hope alive. Ironic much?

I have fallen in love with the Lindsay in Jail Twitter profile and, with treats like “Why do people keep sending me nail files? Do I look Vietnamese?”, who can blame me.

I really love it when you send me those emails, trying to sell me something, and you spell my name incorrectly.

Awesome first impression. Way to lay those relationship foundations.

I haven’t lost my way, I am presently going through something of a macabre phase. Think Sweeney Todd with a fastidious personal hygiene regime and without those nasty meat-pies-made-from-people.

My horrible, soul-destroying thought for the day:

Am I nothing more than mediocre?

Is this thought normal? Or am I thinking it because, in the darkest corners of my mind, I know I am mediocre?

I have worked, fairly successfully, from home for just under three years and - this year - something broke and it broke in a way that couldn’t be fixed.

I woke up one day and found it impossible to eat, sleep, work and play in the same space; and this left me tortured. I didn’t want to not work from home, I didn’t want an office, I didn’t - and I still don’t - want anything corporate.

It may sound melodramatic but I believed that I was the working from home poster girl. I thought that if I ever wanted an office it would have more to do with my ego than maintaining my sanity but, as I have discovered, it is presently all about the sanity.

I now have an office that’s not attached to my home and it’s nice. It’s sparse, the premises are an intermittent building-site and the Internet - or indeterminate lack there of - is frustrating me endlessly. On the positive side I have underground parking, a great view, a Nespresso and my very own whiteboard … yeeha.

The luxury of the wealthy and / or the fearless.

My love affair with stuff is starting to feel very Capulet and Montague.

What a great story.

I’ve always thought - somewhat proudly - that I’m not for sale. That my opinions - good, bad or indifferent - belong to me.

I’ve always believe that I would sooner stop blogging than promote anything, to those I care about or those that value my opinion, that I don’t personally believe is worth promoting.

I sometimes wonder if the truth is really that I haven’t been offered the right price. I’m starting to think that we all have a price. Some of us are just cheap.