The Perfect Job for a Caveman is…
A writer.
And that’s the problem; I’m no troglodyte. Instead I work a lot, trying to take care of myself and Mr. Fluffy (My imaginary cat friend who only exists in the very depths of my lonely soul). Rent is high (Too damn high!) and it seems like selling my liver might be the only aperture into middle class comfort. My schedule is horrendous, limiting the amount I write, maintaining this dilapidated blog, play TOR (In which I have become homesick after leaving Coruscant), and to socialize in my niche of half-baked friends.
11 am– I get up and “dress for success”.
12-1 pm– My usual biking adventure through 107 degree weather.
2 pm– Work
3 pm– Work
4 pm– Work
5 pm– Work
6 pm– Lunch!
6:30 pm– Back to work
7 pm– Work
8 pm– Work
9 pm– Work
10 pm– Work
10:30 pm– When the heavens sing and I make my way back to my rest chamber.
11 pm– I get a shower while responding back to the flooding of late texts
12 am – 3 am– After procuring a case of writers block, I stare at a blank page of nothingness, falling asleep to await the rinse-and-repeat process of the next day.
Perhaps a few nights of self-induced insomnia could allow me to finish the book that I am writing in the alloted time my procrastination is off shift.
The Rise of the Titans will surely be published soon…only delayed for another eight years hopefully.
Better With A Pen 
I feel your pain my friend.