I could never be happy in a traditional job. I hate fluorescent lights. I detest working in groups. While I can get interested in just about anything, nothing interests me enough for it to be a full-time career. Also — and, to me, this is no small thing — the smell of office carpet makes me existentially depressed.

So I became a freelancer — thus joining the growing armada of the self-employed who sit at the same cafe table every day and thrust their business cards in your face during casual conversation. For the most part, it is a satisfying existence, a life of freedom and flexibility and almost no personal connection to “The Office.” Then there are days when the clock slips past noon, but I haven’t been outside, I haven’t spoken to another human being, and I start to wonder if I’m going to wake up one morning when I’m 70 and regret never having owned a pantsuit.

It’s true: I have a love-hate relationship with my career choice. In celebration of tax day, I put together some freelancing tips for Salon.