Last fall I received a fairly personalized invitation to a special topic conference. At first I thought, “Oh, mass email,” and I almost deleted it. But it seemed like a unique invitation, so I called the coordinators.

I was told that I was indeed part of a special group of invitees to this special event. Wow, I thought. I’ve been singled out. I even called my mom.

I registered for the conference with pride, feeling like I was part of something important and exclusive. When I registered, I even had to use my email address to login.

Here we are a few months later, and it turns out that the conference is open to everyone. And a couple of the confirmations I received recently encouraged me to bring everyone.

In truth, I feel like I fell prey to a very good marketing technique. All of a sudden, I don’t feel special. I just feel duped into signing on early to the conference.

When I was an education director, we never tried this technique to increase attendance. The only thing that we would have done perhaps was to expand promotions to other groups if the attendance looked smaller than we hoped. I also think this may be similar to techniques we tried when our expo numbers seemed small — we offered a last-minute free expo hall pass to different groups to encourage foot traffic, even though we had been selling passes before the promo.

Is this an actual technique, or is it something that a conference host may fall back on if the response is not what they hoped? If it’s a ploy, I’m not really impressed.

To say it’s a nice day here in San Diego would be an insult to the crisp, clear sunshine that warms the gentle breeze and sifts through the open blinds in my new office to add an ambient light that needs no incandescent bulbs. It’s absolutely spectacular, and I’m one of the luckiest people I know to be enjoying an afternoon like this.

I’ve been sitting at my computer for the past 5.5 hours with occasional breaks to call D.J., do a few dishes from the open house last night and eat carrots in the sunshine on my front steps. I am filled with a sense of relief that I just finished two very large projects: a PowerPoint presentation and an article on word choice.

The PowerPoint is for a session I’m presenting as a plenary speaker to a group of chapter executives at a very large association convention on Saturday. The article will run in a national eNewsletter for communication directors.

Both projects are very important to increase my visibility, but neither of them are really paying gigs (though the national association is paying me a stipend and flying me out - woohoo!). That’s one of the reasons it was so hard for me to focus on finishing them. I’ve had a lot of hourly work lately, and it’s hard to put that aside to do projects that are more public relations.

But now I’ve finished the bulk of the work on both projects, and this Easter is officially a success.

I’m signing off now. D.J. invited me for a sunset dinner and a walk on the beach this evening. Enough computer time for the weekend!

It’s 8:10 p.m. on Friday night. About 90 minutes ago I was just getting out of the shower when a panicked client called. “Going out of town at the crack of dawn!” and “Have to have this finished!” and all that good stuff.

It’s chilly after my bath, so I put on my flannel PJs and pad barefoot to my office, which is in the front of the apartment. The blinds are a little open, and my neighbors keep walking by. The guys ignore me at first, then they wave a little. I’m perhaps 15 years older than they are, and I’m not at all concerned about them being peeping toms, especially since there’s nothing to peep at with me in these big old pajamas.

They’re traipsing back and forth with a couch they’re moving into their apartment upstairs, and I’m working away. It’s dark now, but you can see me with the glow of the computer. A few minutes later, THEY KNOCK.

A little stunned, I sit there for a second. There are three guys right there on the porch. Did they really want me to come to the door in my PJs? I answer the door, still in my PJs. “Hey, umm. You know us writing chicks who work at home… we always work in our PJs,” I blurt. “And here I am alright, writing away in my PJs!”

I figure they’ll be a little embarrassed and …. well.. I had no idea what they wanted, frankly. I figured they’d ask and run, scared of the crazy writer woman in her PJs!

But no! They start chatting, like I’m fully dressed or something! “Yes, we’re coming to your open house,” one says. “This is my friend, and we’re headed out,” the other informs me. And, stupid me, I start chatting back! I actually turn on the light in my office to let them see my new curtains, which I bought today. And they poke their heads into my office and look around and talk about their decor in comparison to mine. Amazing! I’m still in my PJs! I’m wrapping my crossed arms around my chest like I’m wearing a straight jacket, and I’m trying to stretch one hand up to my head to push my glasses back on my nose and mash my hair down.

This is hilarious! Do they not know I’m standing here in my pajamas with a wet head and a mewing cat at my feet at 8 p.m. on a Friday night? Am I the only one who thinks I should go put on a robe or go get a life or stop looking so much like crazy writer/cat lady?

They wanted to ask me if they could keep the couch on the porch in front of my apartment for the night because the couch has been saturated with cigarette smoke for a decade, it seems. Who the heck cares, I’m thinking…. I’m in my blanking PJs! I’m almost 40, pudgy, slightly creepy to be working in the dark like this, talking kinda fast because I’m so nervous; and I’m wearing really large white flannel pajamas that say “warm milk” and “a nice up of tea” and “sweet dreams.” Does no one else see the humor here????

Ok, now that I write this all out, it doesn’t sound so funny. In fact, it may not be funny at all. My new neighbors are amazingly nice, and they obviously feel comfortable saying hi, which I love. But I was standing here the whole time laughing hysterically inside, knowing deep in my soul that this may be the life I’m destined to live. I’m definitely a crazy writer/cat lady in the making, living in a big old house with echoing halls and creaky floorboards that match my creaky knees.

And I also kept thinking that my mother would ground me for entertaining visitors while wearing my PJs.

My inner voice: Yep, Ziesenis. You need to get out more.

It’s Friday, and I got nuthin.

Have a great weekend.

A few days ago, I decided I could afford a housekeeper. The math is simple, right? If I work x number of hours at y rate, I’ll be earning more money than if I work x number of hours cleaning my house. Thus I can pay someone to clean my house while I make more money.

Sounded simple, at least.

I decided that all I had to do was to give up daily Americanos or hunker down and do more work on Saturdays.

But here’s the thing: I already gave up the daily Americanos, and I’m already trying to work on Saturday. At this point in my career as a freelance writer, I just don’t have disposable income. I have enough money in the business and personal checking accounts for about a month of expenses, and I have enough in savings for about 3/4 of a month. I have quite a few unpaid invoices on the books, but unpaid invoices won’t pay my rent. There’s no buffer there. And there’s certainly not a stipend in there for a luxury like a housekeeper.

This thought became very clear to me as I worked last week to paint my old apartment. A friend of mine who no longer worries about bouncing checks said, “Beth, just leave it and let the landlord take it out of the deposit.” That sounded like a good idea when I was in “justify a housekeeper” mode. But my deposit is $875. And $875 is a hell of a lot of money. And I spent Saturday, Sunday and Monday trying to make sure I get as much of that $875 back as humanly possible. The picture is me in the final stages of turning a Caribbean Blue kitchen back to Swiss Coffee.

I’m actually having a housekeeping team come by today. I scheduled them before I decided not to use them, and I put aside the money to pay them. (In fact, the day I put the money aside was the day I realized how crazy it was to hire housekeepers. How was I going to come up with the next visit’s money?) I didn’t cancel them for today because this weekend is my open house here at Avenue Z, and I really want everything to shine.  I’m so excited!