It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and Ruby was angelically working alone on an art project. I was just about to fall asleep on the couch when Ruby decided she needed an envelope for mailing her art to a friend. I foolishly tried to stay in the sleepy zone, and mumbled to her she needed to wait. She proceeded to melt into a puddle wailing, "I HATE WAITING!"
I know how she feels. This summer has been a difficult time of waiting. Since we were robbed on June 14th, Mary and I have decided and undecided all possibilities:
- First: Shut down, this work is too dangerous, we're not making any money anyway, especially if someone keeps breaking in or robbing us every few months. But still....I think I like this work.
- Then: Move the shop, we must be on the wrong street. But...the crime is ridiculous all over the city.
- Then: Move to the burbs. Ick, what are we thinking? We love living in Temescal and this is where our people are.
- Now: Keep the shop open, get onto Telegraph, hope for more money to come in to cover more costs.
So we waited to know how we really feel about this work, and since re-opening I can only think of tasks that have to wait until we know where we'll be located next month. Until we hear from the property owner on whether we'll get the space on Telegraph, I'm in limbo. I'm ready to go big or don't go at all.
But I can't. I have to wait. I have to do more planning, I have to entertain worst-case-scenarios (which I'm finding difficult!) and then raise more money to cover startup and initial operating losses. In my head I know this is good for me like medicine. It would be nice if in some future blog I can say, "Ah, now I see what all the waiting was for." But is that how it really works? I hope so.
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