TastyTrixie.com

Yesterday we had a really bad sales day. You tell yourself it’s just one of those days . . . bad luck and such. And then today we had ANOTHER really bad sales day!

Dirty Gutters & Cotton Ball Clouds: June 6th, WA

I’m not writing this to complain or ask why, I’m just logging it out for those of you interested in how business is. As always, I can think of tons of things I could do to improve sales. Like write sexier blog entries than these ones! That still doesn’t account for our sales this year being HALF of what they were at this time in 2007.

Suckerhole

It could be a destabilizing hint from the universe that I can’t really count on ANYTHING. If I’m going to gamble, I could gamble doing something else I want to do and haven’t already been doing for the past ten years, something REALLY crazy! Crazier than internet porn, YES!

It’s hard not to feel lame and sucky when you have much better “products” than you had years ago, but see a marked decrease in sales instead of an increase. Sure, there are patches of blue but many seem framed by thick, foreboding, suffocating clouds of doom.

Okay, I’m being melodramatic. But that’s the life of a small-business owner, I think. You have to be given to severe thrills of optimism balanced by degrading valleys of pessimism.

*****

Our crappy neighbor’s sweet one-eyed kitty was sitting on our welcome mat when I came home from the store, looking at me like she expected me to open the front door for both her and me and to welcome her inside for a feeding. We’ve lived here for years and I’ve never seen her do that, come to our door and indicate she wanted to be let in. It warmed the cockles of my cold, cold heart and made me sad for the millionth time in my life that I’m allergic to cats. I know it’s crazy, but I do believe stranger-cats know when a house is sad sometimes and come over to offer love.

Due to our poor relations with our neighbor and my allergies, I didn’t do anything to encourage the cat, but when I checked on her out there later as she was finally slowly leaving, she kept looking back at me over her shoulder and making eye contact with me, like “are you sure you don’t want me to stay? Because I’ll stay and even come in if you want me to. I’m of a perfectly comforting weight for a lap, see?”

I know: CRAZY. The cats just come to our house because the bird-hunting is so good. I don’t believe that, though. You don’t catch birds sitting on a fucking welcome mat in front of a door, alternating your gaze from the human to the door, back to the human and back to the door.

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