I had one of those days yesterday when I’m glad I’ll soon be rid of the shop. Truth is that it gives me regular grief. For every moment that I feel encouraged, even proud, there’s another where I think it’s just too much hard work.
I went into the shop yesterday thinking I need only an average good day to feel safe about meeting this week’s deadline. Unfortunately on the way in I got a message from one of my therapists saying she was sick and not coming in. I couldn’t find a replacement for her, and so for most of the day had only one girl working on our second busiest day of the week. That cost me a conservative $300, but likely more so going on recent weeks. It also made things very precarious once more.
It set me off too. No surprise, but I had a gutful. There’s no break from this, and despite all the effort and intelligence always an element or two that rests in the lap of the gods. It can go either way, but when they go negative those small elements somehow have a disproportionate effect on the business – and there’s fuck all you can do about it.
I’m putting a lot of time and effort into this place, but it’s secondary to the mental side of it. Add that to all the other shit I have to deal with and it’s amazing that I cope. Something has to give though. Imagine an engine running at maximum revs week after week. Something’s going to burn out, something must inevitably fail. I’m not yet at that point, but no matter how durable I am it must come.
My health is suffering at the minute, which in part is surely due to being run down. In the last 24 hours a mysterious red splotch has appeared under my left eye. I look reasonably fit still, but I also look tired.
I’m here again in the shop today. As it stands it’s touch and go if we’ll make the mark this week. I think probably we will, but, once more, only just.