The O’Henry short story called “The Red-Headed League” repeats the line, “It looked like a good thing, but wait til I tell you.” My version of that story doesn’t deal with small, obstreperous children, however, but with creating income. I'm not unemployed—just chronically underemployed.

When I suggested doing a workshop on eating gluten-free for the college where I work, I was thrilled at the idea of doing it twice, once on each campus, for $50.00 a pop. Easy money, I thought.

That was before I took a second, temporary job, where I was scheduled to work on the same night of the workshops. This meant I “lost” three hours of work there, putting me $10.00 in the negative. Thank heavens only two people signed up for the second workshop, which was cancelled. Then I found out that the $50.00 I did earn would be folded into my regular paycheck, which  meant taxes would get taken out. I did not get the full sum, not by any stretch.

I have other friends who do other sorts of workshops, and they eventually get to the point of realizing that between commute time, gas costs, and preparation, they are losing money. Some of what they do counts as “good works,” or giving back, whatever you want to call it. And that’s a noble thing, but it’s not a way to increase income.

I had also figured out that each of my part-time jobs was 11 or 12 hours a week, so between them I had about one half-time job with no bennies. I sort of knew this, but it hit me more starkly for some reason when the last of the second freelance jobs ended, leaving me with only the income from those part-time jobs until I could invoice and be paid for the major freelance job. Which took time, because I wasn’t in the new online accounting system and my editor didn’t have time to put me there.

Meanwhile, I needed to replace my dying Mac and was looking at the Apple store Web site, drooling over the laptops and considering if I really needed to buy one, just for the cool factor. I told a colleague I was tired of not being able to take my [nonexistent] laptop with me when I went on a trip. But the truth is that I don’t travel much, and when I do, the idea of being unavailable is rather appealing. I’ve been saying for more than a year that I want a laptop, but maybe I just want to feel mobile, a jetsetter, one of the beautiful people. In fact, if I got a laptop, I’d lose screen size, because I have a 21.5-inch screen on my current Mac, and no laptop is that big. And I’d save about a thousand dollars if I bought an iMac instead; I could use that thou for the vacation I’ve been daydreaming about, or, more probably, toss it at my back tax bill. I hate thinking pragmatically.