Messy Day-Messy Purse-Messy Brain
I woke up feeling messy. My brain was foggy and my house disordered. I put my keys in the trunk of my Vespa to get my helmet out, then went into the house to look for my keys, to inspire Philip to look for my keys, to grapple unsuccessfully with the jumble of junk that grows in my purse to find the keys. After a good five minutes of panic I went outside to retrace my steps and saw the keys hanging in the trunk lock serenely. Then when I parked the Scooter on fourth street I got about half a block away when a garbage-man kindly hailed me down and pointed out that I had left my keys in the lock of my trunk. WHAT'S UP WITH ME AND THE KEYS? It just isn't untangling. I suspect it's because I have been thrown off my medication schedule by an ever changing morning routine. The most dangerous thing crazy people do is forget that just because you're life is going well doesn't mean your brain suddenly started regulating itself. The happier you are the easier it is to forget to take your medication. Then you pay for it a week later when your brain is left to wing it. It freezes up because in a lot of cases it just isn't making the chemicals it needs, or it has them and doesn't know what to do with them. Stupid brain. Stupid hair. (I just threw that in because I hate looking like somebody Barabara Bush might be proud to sponsor.) (I may as well just throw on a short string of chunky pearls to accessorize my thick neck and join the whole frump crowd in earnest.)
I'm not actually in a bad mood. But I hate feeling so disordered because it bring on the panic. I'm feeling it because the web site isn't up. The people building it have encountered some more problems needing ironing out. I can't stand knowing something will happen soon, but not know WHEN. No one walks into our shop either. We are officially the third street under-dogs. There's a cool space coming up for rent which I hear a lot of businesses will be tearing their hair out to get. We've decided not to worry about it or think about it. They won't rent to us anyway. The only people who will rent to us are the owners of the building we're in (thank you, by the way, if you're reading this Wildhaven) but it's meaningful to note that that's because no one else wants to rent here because no one comes in, they don't pay to have the courtyard or bathrooms cleaned, the roof leaks, and the lighting is only fit for cave dwellers. We like this spot, but it is not worth being considered a retail space. Which won't matter if we ever get our web-site up and running and actually get business on it.
Alright, I guess I am kind of in a funk. I also have that feeling that my house is going to sink into a deeper mess than I left it because now Philip is being the primary house keeper. (And I need to say here that he has surprised me at times with how nice the house is when he's stayed home to do what I consider to be my job. He is not a dead-beat househusband.) It's hard for me to let go. But I need to because I have so much to do here in the shop. I haven't been able to sew all day because the electricians were here fixing some dangerous wiring and relieving some of the buzz from the florescent lights (though it will always buzz a little, I'm told, because they are the old kind...the magnetic kind...the kind no one uses anymore because they make people want to kill themselves!
It's so easy in this time in our history to be completely overwhelmed by life. Mostly I'm not overwhelmed anymore because the pace has slowed since moving here. I do a lot, but I don't feel obligated to do a lot. I only have two friends here and no family, which sounds sad, but actually simplifies things. However, running a business has so many pit falls to it. People always think that making the money is the hard part. While that's pretty important and I haven't achieved that yet, that's not what troubles me the most. What I really hate is the harrassing we get from all the other companies who want our business, or have our business and like sharks in a bloody ocean, just aren't happy eating our feet, they want the whole damn leg. Verizon is always calling us to sign up for other services. Services I don't want. Services I don't want to be called about. We're on the no-call list, but this doesn't apply to companies you are already doing business with. The other phone books (there are three, if you can believe it) also harrass us all the time. As I've mentioned in a previous post, the paper work really gets to me too. It makes life seem so messy and uncontrollable.
So now that the electricians have fixed my plugs so I can not only use them, but also not be fried by them, I am going to put some television on and sew. I got quite a bit done yesterday. Yes, I must watch movies in order to not hate sewing a billion of the same apron. If you are a customer coming in today, please forgive the ambiance killer. I'm in a funk and need to watch Sophia Loren ham it up Italian Style for an aging Clark Gable in "It started in Naples". Maybe you can get us both a cup of coffee and put your feet up here in the store and watch Sophia being more Italian than the Pope with me. I've learned that the best thing to do when in a funk is to get work done. Keep the old bones moving, keep the brain from wallowing in swampy waters, and try not to sew all five fingers together.
Post-script- It's 4:02 pm and Philip has called to ask where the home warrunty is because not only is our shower draining slowly, but now the tub is backed up. Which means that in a very short time we may find ourselves facing sewage which is not how I would like to end a day like this. But obviously I don't know where the home warrunty is because we now have at least six 12" high stacks of mortgage papers in various places in the house and who the hell can say where the correct one is? Chaos begets chaos. I thought we were leaving plumbing problems behind when we had to replace all the plumbing in our last house two days before the close of escrow. That house was seventy five years old. Our new house is over twenty years younger, didn't they improve plumbing by the nineteen fifties? Damn.
I'm not actually in a bad mood. But I hate feeling so disordered because it bring on the panic. I'm feeling it because the web site isn't up. The people building it have encountered some more problems needing ironing out. I can't stand knowing something will happen soon, but not know WHEN. No one walks into our shop either. We are officially the third street under-dogs. There's a cool space coming up for rent which I hear a lot of businesses will be tearing their hair out to get. We've decided not to worry about it or think about it. They won't rent to us anyway. The only people who will rent to us are the owners of the building we're in (thank you, by the way, if you're reading this Wildhaven) but it's meaningful to note that that's because no one else wants to rent here because no one comes in, they don't pay to have the courtyard or bathrooms cleaned, the roof leaks, and the lighting is only fit for cave dwellers. We like this spot, but it is not worth being considered a retail space. Which won't matter if we ever get our web-site up and running and actually get business on it.
Alright, I guess I am kind of in a funk. I also have that feeling that my house is going to sink into a deeper mess than I left it because now Philip is being the primary house keeper. (And I need to say here that he has surprised me at times with how nice the house is when he's stayed home to do what I consider to be my job. He is not a dead-beat househusband.) It's hard for me to let go. But I need to because I have so much to do here in the shop. I haven't been able to sew all day because the electricians were here fixing some dangerous wiring and relieving some of the buzz from the florescent lights (though it will always buzz a little, I'm told, because they are the old kind...the magnetic kind...the kind no one uses anymore because they make people want to kill themselves!
It's so easy in this time in our history to be completely overwhelmed by life. Mostly I'm not overwhelmed anymore because the pace has slowed since moving here. I do a lot, but I don't feel obligated to do a lot. I only have two friends here and no family, which sounds sad, but actually simplifies things. However, running a business has so many pit falls to it. People always think that making the money is the hard part. While that's pretty important and I haven't achieved that yet, that's not what troubles me the most. What I really hate is the harrassing we get from all the other companies who want our business, or have our business and like sharks in a bloody ocean, just aren't happy eating our feet, they want the whole damn leg. Verizon is always calling us to sign up for other services. Services I don't want. Services I don't want to be called about. We're on the no-call list, but this doesn't apply to companies you are already doing business with. The other phone books (there are three, if you can believe it) also harrass us all the time. As I've mentioned in a previous post, the paper work really gets to me too. It makes life seem so messy and uncontrollable.
So now that the electricians have fixed my plugs so I can not only use them, but also not be fried by them, I am going to put some television on and sew. I got quite a bit done yesterday. Yes, I must watch movies in order to not hate sewing a billion of the same apron. If you are a customer coming in today, please forgive the ambiance killer. I'm in a funk and need to watch Sophia Loren ham it up Italian Style for an aging Clark Gable in "It started in Naples". Maybe you can get us both a cup of coffee and put your feet up here in the store and watch Sophia being more Italian than the Pope with me. I've learned that the best thing to do when in a funk is to get work done. Keep the old bones moving, keep the brain from wallowing in swampy waters, and try not to sew all five fingers together.
Post-script- It's 4:02 pm and Philip has called to ask where the home warrunty is because not only is our shower draining slowly, but now the tub is backed up. Which means that in a very short time we may find ourselves facing sewage which is not how I would like to end a day like this. But obviously I don't know where the home warrunty is because we now have at least six 12" high stacks of mortgage papers in various places in the house and who the hell can say where the correct one is? Chaos begets chaos. I thought we were leaving plumbing problems behind when we had to replace all the plumbing in our last house two days before the close of escrow. That house was seventy five years old. Our new house is over twenty years younger, didn't they improve plumbing by the nineteen fifties? Damn.