Way back in the 1990’s I was writing a letter to a friend of mine on this newfangled word processing program called WordPerfect. I absolutely adored WordPerfect back in the day and would use it over any other word processing program — including Microsoft Word for many many years. I’d actually been using WP for a while at the time of this letter writing event, but it had just been updated to Windows, and it had some nifty new features — like fonts! I was all over the cursive font because how awesome was it to be able to type in cursive? And wow! The program would, like, capitalize the first word of a sentence if I used the proper punctuation. And there were suddenly these wavy red lines under misspelled words and wavy green lines under grammar errors! It was pretty mind blowing at the time.
Of course, punctuation doesn’t always equal the end of a sentence, so that got frustrating once in a while. And spellcheck has since been proven to be very fallible. It is still a good place to start, but yeah, spellcheck just won’t see the mistake in I red the sentence. or She bread rabbits for fun and profit. because the words red and bread are spelled correctly. Still, spellcheck in all its forms is a good program, and I still use it as a jumping off point whenever I proofread my stuff. And, contrary to popular belief, I do proofread. 🙂
Anyway, I was thinking about that letter back then — about 25 years ago I guess — and it occurred to me that the wonder of that first letter is still kind of there. Because before word processing programs like WordPerfect and Microsoft Word, I either had to use a typewriter to type a letter, or write it by hand. Both of with were tedious processes for me, because while I can touch type ,and do a fairly good job at typing, I do make mistakes. And, OMG, don’t even get me started about writing business letters and/or books on a typewriter. Mistakes just couldn’t happen. It was so stressful. Same with writing by hand, I used to have pretty good handwriting, and actually enjoyed writing a lot, but I do make mistakes. I used to be way too much of a perfectionist to leave mistakes in my letters. I’m better about it now (as can be attested by how many mistakes are usually found in my blog posts 😛 ), but back then? No way. Word processing programs were a godsend for me because I could just go back and correct my mistakes — helped along by the little red lines.
And here I am, still writing with similar word processing technology, but on a different scale. But many things are the same. My words will still automatically capitalize if I use certain punctuation, and I still have the same squiggly lines under misspelled words — twenty some odd years later. You know what, dear reader? Even now, I think that word processing programs are pretty awesome. I think the fact that I can write these words on my computer, hit the “publish” button, wait a few seconds, and it’s published for anyone in the world to see is pretty damned amazing. Even with the glitches and foibles of certain websites. I’ve always thought the internet was rather remarkable and awe inspiring, despite how ubiquitous it is nowadays. Childbirth is an everyday experience, but it’s also a wonderful event.
Blah, I’ve run out of steam. 🙂 I just wanted to share this kind of stream of consciousness with y’all. I had that memory and it just went from there. I really did love writing letters on WordPerfect, though I use Microsoft Word now (because I have the whole Office Suite). And I guess I’ll always have that memory of, “This is pretty awesome.” And I still think that this is whole word processing, picture processing, and internet thing pretty awesome, even though it’s pretty much the every day hum-de-dum nowadays. Without the internet, I couldn’t torture y’all, dear readers, with my strange musings. And then what would you do for weirdness? ^_^
We took Poptart to the vet today to get his stitches out and he has a clean bill of health. We need to keep his wound covered for a bit longer because the other dogs keep trying to lick it, but he doesn’t need to wear the inflatable donut around his neck anymore, And, more importantly, he doesn’t need to be confined to his kennel anymore. Though we’ll probably keep him there at night for a while because I feel uneasy having him sleep in the bed because I move around a lot.
I, dear reader, am exhausted. Doug and I have been slowly but surely purging things out of the house — we’ve gone through the cat’s room, the kitchen, the dog’s room, and part of what used to be my office, but it is slow going. I look around me and I see so much more that has to be purged and we’re slowly running out of time to get stuff out of the door. We haven’t even looked at the shed yet. But y’all, I’m tired. Like exhausted. Some days it’s enough that I get out of bed and into the living room. I try to get dressed every day, but sometimes I just don’t. That was the one thing I’ve always tried to do — get dressed. I didn’t even have coffee today. I just couldn’t work up the energy to run the coffee machine. I’ve been falling asleep all day. I mean, I took Poptart to the vet and brought him back, but it was a colossal effort. Y’all don’t even know. I went to bed early last night too, but as I said, I’ve been falling asleep all day. I just don’t sleep during the day. I made an appointment with my doctor to have my thyroid checked again because this tired business just cannot continue. We’ll see what goes on from there.
In other news, the job that Doug was supposed to have until January is letting him go at the end of June. I dunno if I’ve told y’all this, but there it is. He’s going to try and get another contracting position, but man is that getting old fast. We found out not too long ago that they were going to let his whole team go last month (like three weeks after they hired him) but his manager convinced the higher ups that his team was more important than they (the higher ups) think, and should be kept around for a little while longer. Even with the extra time, the team won’t be able to finish what needs to be done, but what can you do? Anyway, this means we’ll be out of health insurance again in a little over a month. *Sigh* This is getting tedious. I just need to remember to get my meds filled before we lose our insurance.
In other other news, I got this in the mail today and found it amusing, so I thought I would share. College courses sure are different from when I went to community college. 🙂 I have no idea what Cannabis 101 is about, but hey, whatever gets them in the door, right? I mean is it the study of cannabis? The history? How to open a cannabis store? I dunno. I suppose I could look at the course description, but what’s the fun of that? 🙂 Hmmmm, it’s not on their website. Let me find that catalog again… Okay, so it’s a “basic, general information” course about how weed works, the difference between CBD and THC, and the medicinal uses of weed. It’s in the catalog, but not on the website… Anyway, I found the cover amusing because, wow I never thought I’d see the day one could take a course in weed. And hey, I’m glad that day is here.
On Wednesday, a local tree service came out and cut up/down the two trees that had blown down in my front yard this past January. My yard is wide open now, and it looks completely different than it did just two days ago. Like, I can see the highway in all its glory without even trying. We planted some trees along the fence line when we first moved here, but we’re totally not gonna be here long enough to see them grow to maturation, so whatever. I now have a bunch of wood and wood chips in my yard though — to be used elsewhere on the property soon enough. I’ll take pictures of how the yard looks whenever I have some energy to wander out there. I was gonna do it yesterday, but I got distracted.
What distracted me was also caused by the trees not being there anymore. See, my house faces South – Southwest more towards the West, which means that my front windows get the full brunt of the sunset. “That’s great!” You might think. “You get to see the sunset every day.” And sunsets are really pretty, especially over the mountains. But no, it’s not great. Because there’s a certain point of the day where the light from the sunset, should it hit my eyes, really triggers my migraines. I mean all I have to do is glance in the wrong direction at the wrong time of day and BAM! I’m on the ground with instant blinding pain in my head. The trees did an excellent job of diffusing that light, even when they were cut in half. So Wednesday I got a full blast of setting sun in my house and I was all, “Yeah, that’s not good at all.”
So yesterday I decided to move my chair/desk setup to face away from the window.
Four hours, dear reader! It took me over four hours just to move five pieces of furniture (and vacuum under them, because you can’t move furniture without vacuuming under them. Well, maybe you can, but I can’t). I got most of it moved out of the way in the first hour and a half and it looked like this:
And that’s where I lost steam. But I couldn’t leave my living room looking like something exploded in it. So it was three more hours of move/clean then recover…. move/clean then recover until I got everything mostly where I wanted it. I was too tired to take a picture. 🙂 I’m still a little tired from it all, but you know what, dear reader? I need to get my stamina up a little if I’m gonna run a store, so bit by bit, I’m gonna do things like I did yesterday — push past the drain… just a little and hopefully regain some of the energy I’ve lost over these past three years that I’ve been sitting in the house. I’m not trying to hurt myself here, but I think I can ease my way up to a partially functioning human being again. ^_^
I’ve also picked up a new-to-me video game. Someone suggested that I might like playing The Sims 3, and I gave it a shot because it’s not that expensive. And the first day I played, I was on the computer for… ten hours! Yikes! Like that’s never happened before. hehehehe. It’s fun. I probably won’t play it as much as I played Skyrim, but yeah… I like it. It’s mindless fun that lets me do something while I contemplate the intricacies of opening a store. Because that’s totally still happening. 🙂
Every once in a while, I just get too tired to write, but I know that I have people here who follow my blog and y’all expect me to post on my blog, so I’m faced with the dilemma of writing something. So, do I post about being too tired to write and (to paraphrase Shakespeare) how can I be too tired to write if I’m writing about being too tired to write?
So I obviously have *some* energy, dear reader, but not a lot. Yesterday, I cleaned out the spare bedroom — the one we call the “cat’s room” because it is where the cat has his litter box and where we feed him. It was a right mess to tell y’all the truth, and it took me about an hour to clean it out. But I did it, and after I did it, I was wiped out for quite a while afterwards. Today, the nice lady who walks the dogs and trims their nails came over and trimmed the dogs’ nails. I don’t know if any of y’all have dogs and/or trim their nails, but for me, it’s quite the adventure. My cat? He’s the easy one. Five seconds and he’s done. My dogs are trained enough that they come to me so we don’t have to chase them down, but they do not like getting their nails trimmed. Not at all. So we do have to hold them down. Well, I have to hold them down while she trims their nails. And Poptart is a biter, so we have to put a muzzle on him and wrap him in a blanket. He’s getting a lot better than he was when we first got him. But he still doesn’t like getting his nails trimmed. At least they enjoy the walk afterwards. Right? ^_^
Still, holding down three dogs (and kind of holding down the cat — though not really) in a row is quite exhausting. Even though they’re not big dogs — Brandy is the biggest a 40 pounds — and they don’t really struggle. Okay, sometimes they do, because they honestly don’t want to have their nails clipped, and they occasionally just say: “Nope, don’t want to be here.” and try to get up and walk away, which is why I have to hold them down. But they’re trained enough to lie still for the most part. So it’s still an effort. It got me to thinking… I often wonder — because they’re all rescue dogs — what actually happened to them in their previous lives, before they came to live with us? Of course unless I get a time machine, I’ll never know. I can only surmise judging by their action and reactions. And when I watch how they act and react to everyday occurrences, I sometimes wish I could go back to their previous owners and say, “What the hell did you do to this dog?” The only one that seems even remotely normal is Cocoa… though even he has some strange quirks. For example, if my phone, or anything else mechanical, dings, rings, or buzzes, he will suddenly look troubled — even sad — and go hide in his box. We have a big, cardboard box that he likes to spend a lot of time in. He’s a cave dweller, what can I say? Most of the time he’ll be happily chilling out here in the living room and then something will “Ding!” and he slinks away into his box. It’s so weird. He does the same if anyone raises their voice around him too, but I guess that’s understandable. He just might not like loud voices.
I think I mentioned that Poptart was a hot mess when we first got him. He was a snappy, snarly bundle of fury, and he’s calmed down a lot in the three years we’ve had him. But his one thing (other than not liking his nails clipped) is that he absolutely cannot stand anything near him if he’s under something like a blanket — which gets to be hysterical sometimes because he and Cocoa often share the same space and Cocoa will just be chilling out then Poptart will go under the blanket next to Cocoa and immediately start growling at Cocoa for invading his space. Though lately Cocoa has started growling at Poptart whenever Poptart starts to go under the blanket so I guess he’s getting tired of those shenanigans. But I have to wonder what made Poptart so sensitive in that way. I mean, I get the feeling that he was at the very least put under a blanket and teased incessantly and possibly worse until he got to the point where he is now — not trusting anything outside of the blanket, but unable to overcome his instinct to nest under the blanket. You know? It makes me so angry. I mean, Poptart weighs all of eight pounds and he’s bordering on overweight. How can anyone mistreat something so small? It’s inconceivable to me. He’s stopped biting people indiscriminately though. So there’s that. 🙂
I was looking through old pictures the other day (which is kind of what started this train of thought) and I found pictures of Brandy when we first got her. Dear reader, she always looked so sad and afraid. Every picture I have of her back then she looks… unsure and just… sad I guess. Maybe I’m anthropomorphizing feelings onto her, but she was also a hot mess when we first adopted her. I honestly want to smack someone. I don’t think that the people who had her before abused her outright. I think they neglected her. Put her in the back yard and left her there. I remember when we first got her she didn’t know how to walk on a leash (neither did Poptart btw) or how to sit or anything. She’s a smart dog though, she’s learned a lot. My only regret with Brandy is that the Humane Society we got her from flat out lied on her adoption papers. They said, “She wants nothing more than to sit at your feet and be loved.” Because we were looking for a dog that didn’t need a lot of exercise. Well guess what? She’s a cattle dog mix and guess what she needs? A lot of exercise. That’s why I have a nice lady to come and walk her once a week. And that’s why we have a big yard. It’s the best we can do for her.
But the past is the past, and I love my furbabies… all four of them. They may have been a hot mess when we first got them (except for Cocoa, who’s been okay for the most part), but they’re doing okay now. It’s one of the reasons why I usually get rescue animals. Because everyone needs a second (or third or even fourth) chance. I mean the only thing we know about Poptart is that he came here from California, and he came to California from Hawaii. We live in Washington, dear reader. That’s a long way for such a small dog. The only thing we know about Cocoa is that he was a stray, which is not surprising since he does have a tendency to want to wander. He’s wandered out of our yard at least half a dozen times and he is headstrong in wanting to go that –> way. He might have had a good family who missed him but he wandered too far and they just simply never found him. Well, we’ve had him for six years and we’ve done our damnedest to never let him out of our sight, but he had tried to see what’s over the horizon, the little stinker. ^_^ I don’t dwell too much on my pets’ past, because I have them now, but sometimes… sometimes dear reader, I do wonder, and sometimes I just get a little angry that there are people out there in the world who neglect and mistreat animals to the point that they mistrust others. Then I get over it, because now I have my little family, and we’re doing okay.
Normally I don’t go deep on this blog, but I had something of an epiphany last night and I kind of want to explore it. First things first. See these bags?
That, dear reader, is three years of bills, statements, miscellaneous correspondence, and whatnot that Doug and I purged from our file cabinet this past weekend. Three years! There were bills in there from 2015… I’ve never been this far behind on my paperwork. Ever. It kind of brought home how much I’ve been hiding from the world these past three years. Not just by not going out into the world, but by not doing the everyday things I ordinarily do — like bills. I haven’t gotten to the point where my house is a mess, but I’ve obviously let a few things slide… a lot.
So, in April of 2016, my neighbor got drunk and came over for a visit. At that time, we were friendly — on talking terms and… neighborly. She had told me that her mom was dying and so when I ran into her that day she told me she wasn’t doing well and that her mom had died. She asked me to drive her to the store (she’d been about to walk there) and of course I did. When we got there, we sat in my car and she talked. I held her hand and patted her shoulder and did what anyone else would do for someone grieving. I mean, that’s what someone does, right? People looked at us, but I didn’t care, I was all, Let them look, her mom died and she needs the comfort. Because, dear reader, I often don’t care what people think of me. *sigh* Mostly.
Anyway, turns out she wanted to get some booze at the store, and she did. I drove her home and said if she needed anything she could come cry on my shoulder. She took that literally and showed up a little while later — glass in hand and plastered. Thus began my ordeal. Five hours. Five hours she parked herself in home and just… I dunno, was drunk. And being drunk, she forcibly tried to kiss me at least twice, and she followed me into the bathroom when I used it as an excuse to get away from her. She spent most of this time maligning everyone and everything in her life and generally played the “woe is me” card for hours. Honestly, I just wanted her to go home. You can read a contemporary account here if you want to. I did my best to diffuse the situation, because this wasn’t the first time I’ve been accosted by a drunk person — not by a long shot. Nor was she the biggest or baddest drunk I’ve had to deflect. Nor was she the first drunk and/or obnoxious person I’ve had to deal with in my own home. I mean, my psycho ex tried to kill me in my own home. Of course, I ran away the next day, so there’s that, but whatever. She’s not even the first woman who’s put the moves on me. What can I say? I’ve led an interesting life.
So why, dear reader, did this encounter affect me so much more than all of the others? (Psycho ex notwithstanding.) Honestly, I don’t know. But it did. I think, though that it is because whenever this kind of thing happened before I had some modicum of control of the situation, however small, some way to diffuse whatever was happening and make it… stop happening. Or, some way to make it happen… less somehow. Without getting into particulars because even I don’t want to delve that far into my deep darks. Even with my psycho ex, I was able to make him go to sleep so I could pack a bag and bug out the next day. In this situation with my neighbor, for the first time in my life, I felt pretty powerless and out of control. And it just hit me when it happened how helpless I was. Like, I’ve never been able to run, dear reader. I’m not a running person — literally, I can’t get up past a jog in the best of situations. Nowadays I’m lucky if I make it to a fast shamble. And that… that’s what frightens me. That’s what keeps me inside and away from the world. Because if something else happens and I lose control, my body is in such terrible condition that I have no way of removing myself from the situation. My lungs are shot, my back is messed up, and my knees are getting worse every day. This thing that happened with my neighbor wasn’t the worse scenario I’ve found myself in, but it affected me a lot because it brought to home just how broken my body has become. And it terrified me.
And so I hid away from the world, and the realization that yeah, I’m disabled. Hard to understand because I mention that I’m disabled all of the time. I know. I mention it, I lament about it, but I have not embraced the fact that I’m disabled. I haven’t accepted it. I’ve rebelled against it and raged at the unfairness of it all. But, I haven’t really acknowledged that it’s a part of who I am. And until I do embrace that part of me as an integral part of who I am, well… how can I become a member of society again? My dream is to open a store and sell things to the public. I can’t do that if I’m hiding away in my house and licking my wounds. Wounds have to heal eventually, even if they leave scars. If I want to realize my dream, I have to come out of my hidey-hole because the things I need to do, the people I need to talk with and the places I need to go? They’re not gonna come to me. Of course this doesn’t mean I’m gonna kick open my door and start singing about how great the world is “outside”. Baby steps y’all. Baby steps.
A while back I posted about my little dream of owning a small piece of property with a retail store attached and maybe opening up a thrifty type store to sell reclaimed crafty goods — or something like that. Owning a retail store is something I’ve dreamed about for a long time. And I’ve always… always… wanted to own the building and live in it. It’s just way more convenient that way and if I want to do something with the store in the middle of the night… well it’s right there. There are drawbacks to this of course — there are drawbacks to everything, but this has been my vision from the start.
Anyway, part of making a dream a reality is doing a little research, and so I’ve been looking at businesses that are on the market right now just so see what’s what. I found this listing:
That, dear reader, is the Sandia Crest House, and it sits on top of the one of the peaks of the Sandia mountains. It has a gift shop, a cafe, a two bedroom living area, and a one bedroom living area on about a quarter acre of land. And the listing price is only $349,000! That’s like about as much as we paid for our house! We can totally afford that! And the view, dear reader, is amazing. Now, it’s not the dream I was thinking of, but! I could totally sell trinkets from local artists just as easily. I’m adaptable that way. Oh, y’all! When I saw this listing, my mind took off running. You just don’t know. I was filled with dreams on how to make it work. I mean, it would be a hella commute for Doug (being on the top of a mountain and all) unless he could work remotely, and we’d be snowed in for up to months a year (being on top of a mountain and all) and there’s possibly bears. Definitely coyotes, all kinds of snakes… but look at the view!
Sigh… ^_^ Of course, just because we want something doesn’t mean the world will let us have it. We still have a mortgage on this house and we have to sell it. Doug hasn’t got a job in Albuquerque, so even if we wanted to, we couldn’t take out a mortgage on a house/store there right away. I am starting on a business plan for my little store, but I’m still in the researching and development stage. No, the only way we’d be able to make this particular property work is if we had an extra $500,000 lying around to buy the place outright (so we wouldn’t have to worry about a mortgage), stock it up and make any repairs needed. And we just don’t have that kind of pocket change. But hey, it was nice to dream the dream… and while I continue to research my actual dream, I’ll still have the “what if’s…” about this place. Because I think we’re all dreamers in one way or another. You know?
Plus there are other things to consider about this property — nice as it is. Like the problems we have in our current house with living so far from the city. Like, if something goes wrong we have to pay extra for plumbers, electricians and others to come out. And we’d be miles from any grocery store. Though I suppose having a cafe in the store would help with getting food. 🙂 Having a built-in store and cafe though, that means employees right off the bat, and that’s something I totally am not ready for. I mean, I could, — maybe — but it would take some adjustments. But I might could make it work. Maybe.
And that, dear reader, is the danger of dreaming big. It’s how I got into the mess I’m in now — sitting on a property that’s slowly being eaten alive by blackberry bushes with outbuildings falling into disrepair because I’m too sick to take care of them and Doug just doesn’t want to. I had big dreams, and Doug didn’t share them. A whole lot of miscommunication later and here we are. Now with the Sandia House, Doug’s all… “Oh, that would be nice.” So he’s more on board with that than he was with this property… still I think it’s slightly — ever so slightly out of our reach. I would be much more able to run a shop and cafe than I ever was able to run a small farm, but Doug would still need to help now and again. And therein lies the rub, this is, after all, my dream.
Back to looking for smaller stores and more viable options. Every once in a while though, there will be things like this that come along and I’ll go: “What if…?” and hopefully, dear reader the “What if…” will only last a day or two and I can get back on track. It’s a good thing though, that I don’t have a pile of money sitting around to throw at my dream, because yeah… I can be a bit impulsive at times. Ha!
So little awhile ago I made a post about a dream I have about opening a store when we move again (and we will move again, that much is not in question). A little storefront that will sell to a very niche market and basically just let me live out my dream of having a store. A dream, dear reader, I’ve had for as long as I can remember.
So the initial reaction to my blog post from quite a few people — like all sides, everywhere — was, “Why don’t you just sell stuff online? It would be way easier/more profitable than trying to run a brick and mortar store.” and the long and short of it is
— I don’t want to.
If profit were all I was looking for, I could be selling stuff online now and I might could be making a profit. I have boxes and boxes of junk just sitting in my house begging to be sold, but… I lack both the energy and the desire to sell them online.
As for being easier. Ha! I’d have to take pictures — good pictures, lots of pictures — of each item. Edit those pictures to my liking because I am a perfectionist when it comes to these things. Then I’d have to list each item on whatever venue I chose to sell them — multiple venues maybe. Then check those venues each day several times a day/hour to see if they have been sold. Package each item for shipping. Go to the post office every day to ship whatever’s been sold and then have to deal with this bullshit:
because people don’t actually read ads, they just look at pictures and buy from there. Or they read whatever they want to read and then get angry when a product isn’t what they want exactly.
Now, y’all might be thinking that what I described above isn’t all that much work, I mean, taking pictures, editing pictures, posting online, &c… That’s not too much trouble, right? It is to me. I would much rather go through the effort of setting up a brick and mortar store than than go through all of that rigmarole all of the time. With a brick and mortar store, well, the items sit there until they’re sold and I don’t have to check constantly to see if they’ve been sold. Or deal with the customer service that comes after the sale. I don’t have to go anywhere but the store, and there’s no pressure to get to the post office in a timely manner. And! I’m not to blame if something happens between the time someone leaves the store and the time they get to their house. You wouldn’t believe how many people leave bad reviews on Amazon because the stupid package was damaged — like that’s the seller’s fault and not the shipping company’s. In a brick and mortar store, most people are sane enough to know what they’re buying, and I get to say whether I will give someone a refund or not. Because, dear reader, it will be my store.
Another reason why I don’t want to sell online is because much of what I’ll be selling will be color based and I simply don’t want to deal with people who cannot understand that monitors are different and often times one cannot get an accurate color on a monitor. It’s just not possible. I have two monitors in front of me right now, and when no windows are open they both display the same background picture — this one:
Now, on my laptop, the snow in this picture has a bluish tint, the clouds are gray, and the sky has a slightly purple tint to it. But on the big monitor, which is a tad bit older and not as high a resolution, the snow isn’t *as* blue (it’s still blue, but it’s whiter), the gray in the clouds hardly shows up at all — It’s there, but more subtle — and there’s no purple at all in the sky. Overall the picture on the bigger monitor has a bluer feel to it. So, imagine, dear reader, if someone was trying to buy yarn from my hypothetical online shop, and they’re holding their project up to the screen to “match” it. It matches! Huzzah! But they get said yarn in the mail and it doesn’t match. Now they’re angry because they don’t realize that monitors do not always reflect true colors, and I get accused of cheating them. Nope. Not gonna deal with this again. Yeah, see this is not a hypothetical situation. This is past experience. There’s a reason why I’m disabled, dear reader — many actually — and my bipolar is a big one. Selling online just pushes too many of my “can’t deal with this shit” buttons. I’ve worked retail before and I’d much rather deal with someone face to face than online. Trust me on this one.
Also — to make a long post even longer… I want to address another thing people ask me about. Which is my “goal” in opening a store in the first place. I mean, if my aim isn’t to make the most money in the world, why bother? Right? I mean, most people, they start businesses to make as much money as they can so they can retire early and do whatever it is they do. The rat race is strong in many people, and hey, more power to them, because some people enjoy that kind of life. I’m not here to stop them. You do you, internet stranger, and I mean that with the utmost sincerity. This world is made of all kinds of people and I’m a live and let live kind of gal. However, as I mentioned before — I’m disabled for a reason. Many reasons. My bipolar being one of them. I’ve never been a participant in the rat race — like, ever — because of my bipolar. It just doesn’t jive with me. People’s insistence that I must run in this race has always — always — pushed my manic buttons. I don’t want to get ahead. I just want to make enough to pay my bills and live my life in relative comfort. That’s it. I’m not looking to “succeed” in the conventional sense, not in business, nor in life. At least not by society’s standards. I consider the fact that I’ve lived this long without stabbing someone in the eye with a pencil a major success. So there’s that. But making the big bucks isn’t my goal in opening my store — never has been, never will be. Yeah, I want to make enough money to stay open and enough profit to keep running, but I’m not looking to start a chain store and retire to the Bahamas (do people still retire to the Bahamas? I dunno). My main goal, dear reader, is to have something to do, — something I enjoy doing — and in doing that something, to contribute to the family income because right now, I’m just watching the grass grow. And watching the grass grow just isn’t cutting it for me, and it’s not contributing to the family income at all. Plus, it’s boring. Like, really boring.
I believe, with all of my heart, that if I take my time and have Doug to back me up, I can slowly but surely fill a store in and get it open. And if I’m my own boss and set my own rules, I can open this store, run it, and make enough money to keep it open. Since we’ll be living in the same building as the store, we won’t be paying two of everything — mortgages, utility bills, &c… So even if I don’t make a profit right away, I won’t be losing any money either because it will be just like this house we live in right now. We only utilize four of the seven rooms in this house — not counting the mother-in-law suite we rent out. Everything else is simply storage or empty space. Doug and I don’t need a lot of space, y’all. And I, personally, don’t want a lot of space. I hate living in big houses, hate it with a passion. Give me small living areas any day of the week. So having a storefront with an apartment attached that we can live in would be a good solution. Yeah yeah, we’d have to figure out the taxes and the legalities, but I totally think it’s doable if we can find a property that’s within Doug’s income. That’s a bit “if”. But, dear reader, it is doable. The properties I’m looking for are not common, but they are available.
I want to do something besides watch videos (I don’t really watch the grass grow, but y’all knew that, right?), surf the internet, and play video games. Video games are fun, and I don’t feel anything but good for playing them. But even they get boring after a while. All pastimes get boring after awhile — to me. All of them, even reading. Having said that, I do have a very strong work ethic. If I open a store and have regular customers, I will feel obliged to them to show up and keep the store running for as long as I’m able. Just as I used to put on a brave face and show up to work for as long as I was able to — which was a very long time, dear reader. A very very long time. I worked for over 20 years despite my bipolar, and despite many of my disabilities, I worked around them even as the years kept adding new and exciting physical quirks on top of the old ones until I had a laundry list of things “wrong” with me.. The hyperthyroidism and mystery breathing problem were the straws that broke the proverbial camel’s back. I am to the point were I simply cannot commute to work anymore. I can’t deal with petty office politics nor deal with snippy coworkers, stuffy supervisors, belligerent bosses, or shady corporate shenanigans. I just don’t have the energy to grit my teeth and pretend like I’m smiling. I am confident that I can, however, be my own boss — no office politics. No distant know-nothing corporation to deal with — except the IRS, and well we all have to deal with them. Death and taxes, dear reader, the only sure things in life. But if I have my own store, well, I just don’t have to worry about that sh–tuff anymore. Because I set the policy and I set the rules. I’ll sink or swim by my own self. Doug is on board, and so long as he has my back, I think I’ll be okay. Even if my little business venture fails, we could end up renting out the space to other people who know more about these things than I do. So hey, you never know what the future holds, but I’d like to chase my rainbow first. Just to see where it takes me.