As I mentioned yesterday the guy whose apartment I helped cleaning a couple of weeks ago was so happy about our work that he wanted me and my colleague to do the same thing in his summer house. Today we went there and did everything from throwing away lots and lots of old stuff, blacken the wood stoves, moving furniture around and in the car some googling for things to the house, like lamps, curtains and stuff. We almost worked for ten hours, so it's been a pretty long day today too.
And now he wants us to come back for a third time and paint some furniture. I've agreed to do it and I like the job even though it's a crappy salary - I do these things at home without getting paid. It was a nice and sunny spring day today, I got to be outdoors a lot instead of sitting in front of my computer and it's nice seeing the difference three persons can make during one day when it comes to cleaning up a messy house.
But it's also a bit weird. It was never my plan to go from being a writer to being a cleaner, right? So even though I don't mind doing it I somehow keep telling myself that it's only as an experiment, to see how these gig-economy jobs work (today I was hired through the company Djenee, and as a coincident on of the tasks I got today was to read a comics magazine for the customers son, which happened to be about a genie in a bottle) that I do this. (Even though I also need the money.) It seems so silly to go from having a decent income to one that barely pays my rent with, on purpose. So I have to tell myself I get something else out of it, like some insight I can write about later.