|so, i was at work today, it was super slow, as usual these days and gabe asked me if i was going to close the shop. i hadn't said that much about it to him, i complain and threaten every so often, i never felt like it would happen. i didn't mean it. anyway, when he asked that...i just thought...yeah. i think i should. it doesn't make money anymore. i saw paperwork from 2 years ago, before there were so many many shops so nearby, and i had really busy days in the winter, busier than any day we have had all summer, when normally we are slammed. i have done this for more than 10 years. i really enjoy tattooing, i feel like i am getting comfortable with it, finally. the piercing, i am so done with. but even still, to say it is over, it is over. done. door closed. really, there have been signs and i though before about closing and just doing cosmetic tattooing out of someone else's salon, and i chickened out. i have done the same thing for so long. there is a point that you need to admit that it is done. that it isn't beneficial, anymore. that it is a financial drain, a physical drain, and i am not a person that competes. it is not who i am. i will not be that way. i am not a backstabber, and undercutter, a one-upper. i don't want to be. i do a different thing. still, it is sad to close a door on a third of my life. bang. done. i think it will be a good thing. but still sad.|
so, i feel really sad tonite. heather was over and we had take-out chinese and chatted. we had a really nice time...however, when we were still at the shop and i was talking to gabe about the end of the shop, she started talking nonsense and interupting every other word and i got really pissed. it was really odd. she said that i could convert my unfinished dirt floor coal covered stone walls and 5 ft ceiling basement into the cosmetic tattooing studio. she said it could have a dungeon theme. she was kinda joking, i hope so, anyway...this in the middle of a serious conversation with gabe. i wanted to tell her to shut up. i don't like being like that. it seems like the more of a bad mood i am in, the higher strung she is.
later, the woman from a shop up the street dropped off something my mom bought for my brother's new babies, because my mom asked her to leave her store, unattended, i might add, to bring it for my dad to pick up, because he can not get out of his car, i guess. then, my mom asked her to pick up clothing she had altered from another shop and bring it to me, and leave her shop again, so my dad doesn't have to leave the car. my dad comes by my shop and beeps, regardless of what i am doing, so i can run out and bring it carside. bobbie, the woman who had to bring the stuff down, who is a pushover seemed very peeved at being treated like a slave. it is amazing that my mom does this shit to everyone and thinks nothing of it.
i hope you didn't make it to the bottom of the page. i am ms. buzzkill. herself.