I’ma take your freelance work. I’ma take your freelance work. No, for real, ask your blogging friends: Do they need my services? ~(admittedly) awful riff on Thrift Shop   I’ve been very careful and logical about this whole transition-to-freelancing thing.  I’ve slowly been stepping down the day job, building up the freelance biz, juggling and hustling and working my little tail off to get myself to the place where Calling It Quits could (*cue angelic choir song here) become a doable and feasible reality. And I’ve done pretty darn good so far, if I may say so myself. I’ve kept food on the table.  I’ve kept the biz growing—much faster than I could ever have hoped for.  Things like doing the dishes may have become a standing joke of cosmic proportions in our household, but I’ve been doing what I need to to see that my little family of 4 (one husband, 2 dogs) is provided for while mommy launches her dream. But eventually, any goal reaches its tipping point.  And now is that tipping point. On hand #1, we have a steady, reliable office job that pays me weekly and helps to keep things like groceries and electricity flowing into our house.  It limits the time I can spend on my dream, yes, but with a mortgage and a family to look after, Responsible Me feels the need to keep these things coming. On hand #2, we have a freelance biz that keeps growing and growing and has now reached the point where it needs more “me time” or it will level out until I may as well not have launched it in the first place.  I can say “Meh, this close enough,” or I can say, “Yes, dream I’ve worked my arse off to realize, I am willing…