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mallorys_cameraFollowing a dismal Friday, the Little Store had an excellent Saturday.
This is one of the most nerve-racking things about owning a small retail business for sure: there aren't any trends. I make sales projections, because, well, that's what you do, it's part of business planning. And you have to have a business plan or else you get lost. But most days you really can't call it, so the sales projections remain an exercise in exceedingly dull science fiction.
I expect this changes as the size of the business ramps up. In business as in the universe, it's only the behavior of the smallest particles that's unpredictable.
Meanwhile there was also more activity on the Jerry Springer World front, which means I'm going to have to escalate, sigh. Write a letter to the landlord. And this is just so fucking tedious and saddening. The older I get, the less I'm interested in stupid little vendettas. They're an enormous waste of time. It perplexes me that so many people view them as recreation, actually seem energized by them.
Makes me want to cry actually.
Perhaps in response to that, last night I dreamed about the Ely Cathedral.
If I believed in ghosts, I'd tell you I once saw a ghost in the Ely Cathedral.
Since I don't believe in ghosts, all I can tell you is that I once had… an experience there. A kind of waking hallucination.
The Ely Cathedral is a relatively obscure attraction as landmarks go, but it was on my list because it's a major plot point in the Greatest Children's Book Ever Written, Tom's Midnight Garden.
I was there in the early 1970's with the great love of my life, a man I should have married but was too stupid and fucked up at the time to realize. So today he is but one of the many regrets with which I line my pillow. The biggest lump, one might say.
The Ely Cathedral is very old. Building was begun some time in the twelfth century when the surrounding fens were all swamp and wild islands.
We toured the Norman naves and the Prior's Door. Viewed Ovin's Stone with its odd inscription.
And then I suddenly got so light-headed that I almost passed out. So we found a pew. I collapsed.
Behind me I could hear this tap-tap-tap. I didn't turn around. Presently there came into view this rather oddly attired gentleman. He was wearing a tunic underneath which were baggy pants. The whole outfit looked like it had been sewn together from flour sacks. And his head was partially shaved.
The sound I heard was from this enormous staff he carried, clicking the floor ahead of him.
It took me a second to realize he was blind.
"Steve," I whispered, pulling on my companion's sleeve. "Isn't that guy weird looking?"
"What guy?" said Steve. "I don't see anybody."
And neither did I. Anymore.
This is one of the most nerve-racking things about owning a small retail business for sure: there aren't any trends. I make sales projections, because, well, that's what you do, it's part of business planning. And you have to have a business plan or else you get lost. But most days you really can't call it, so the sales projections remain an exercise in exceedingly dull science fiction.
I expect this changes as the size of the business ramps up. In business as in the universe, it's only the behavior of the smallest particles that's unpredictable.
Meanwhile there was also more activity on the Jerry Springer World front, which means I'm going to have to escalate, sigh. Write a letter to the landlord. And this is just so fucking tedious and saddening. The older I get, the less I'm interested in stupid little vendettas. They're an enormous waste of time. It perplexes me that so many people view them as recreation, actually seem energized by them.
Makes me want to cry actually.
Perhaps in response to that, last night I dreamed about the Ely Cathedral. If I believed in ghosts, I'd tell you I once saw a ghost in the Ely Cathedral.
Since I don't believe in ghosts, all I can tell you is that I once had… an experience there. A kind of waking hallucination.
The Ely Cathedral is a relatively obscure attraction as landmarks go, but it was on my list because it's a major plot point in the Greatest Children's Book Ever Written, Tom's Midnight Garden.
I was there in the early 1970's with the great love of my life, a man I should have married but was too stupid and fucked up at the time to realize. So today he is but one of the many regrets with which I line my pillow. The biggest lump, one might say.
The Ely Cathedral is very old. Building was begun some time in the twelfth century when the surrounding fens were all swamp and wild islands.
We toured the Norman naves and the Prior's Door. Viewed Ovin's Stone with its odd inscription.
And then I suddenly got so light-headed that I almost passed out. So we found a pew. I collapsed.
Behind me I could hear this tap-tap-tap. I didn't turn around. Presently there came into view this rather oddly attired gentleman. He was wearing a tunic underneath which were baggy pants. The whole outfit looked like it had been sewn together from flour sacks. And his head was partially shaved.
The sound I heard was from this enormous staff he carried, clicking the floor ahead of him.
It took me a second to realize he was blind.
"Steve," I whispered, pulling on my companion's sleeve. "Isn't that guy weird looking?"
"What guy?" said Steve. "I don't see anybody."
And neither did I. Anymore.
