My flight home from Chicago last night was packed. This did not stop the guy sitting in the seat next to me from putting two bags and his coat in the overhead bin. I posted my displeasure with his actions on Facebook, then wondered what he would do if he knew. "Of course he won't know - he's a stranger!" I reminded myself. Then we chatted for the next two hours. He asked me what I did and what Husband did. I said that I worked part-time as a grant writer, taught a financial management class for child care center directors, and did some consulting. "I am also writing a book," I told him.

"So you live off your husband," he commented. The guy is Israeli, so I was not totally surprised at his brusqueness, but I was still horrified. In fact, this is exactly my worst fear. I don't want to be a mooch or thought of as a mooch. I may not work at a conventional job with conventional hours or make fistfuls of dollars, but I work, dammit. I worry that people will think I'm a spoiled housewife. Why do I feel so insecure about it? It drives me nuts. Work means so much to me. I wish I was not so ambitious. That's probably why I get so upset if I think that people perceive me as a loser. Ugh.

As I also reported on Facebook, the guy seemed very concerned that all of my anxiety (of which people like him cause with their stupid commentary) causes my insomnia. He suggested that I begin smoking weed, which is about as horrifying to me as the idea of being a spoiled housewife. He was very earnest, though. (When I later relayed the guy's advice to Husband, who himself was drunk after a work event, he suggested that I not speak to people in coach. Hilarious.)

At the end of the flight, my seatmate asked for my card. When he looked at it, he said he would friend me on Facebook. Figures.