The Accidental Business Tycoon Vents

The stress of trying to pay Paul with the money I robbed from Peter has tripped the blow off valve in my mind. Last week as I gazed dejectedly at the $2500 worth of bike shop bills almost over due sitting next to my homespun ledger that told me I had taken in a paltry $1800 that week to pay them, frustration and anger boiled over. I picked up my revolving shop stool and tossed it across the room. Thankfully it is one rugged stool. It laughed at me. Later that night I sucked down 3 beers and 4 shots and passed out still angry and frustrated.

I took care of the bills okay. But it meant I had to dip into the hard won stash of cash I began scraping together back in March for just this type of temporary cash crunch. But my temperament has not really improved. I have turned into a grumpy ole fart who would love to have a dog I hate so I can kick it.

Hmm......................

Seems this bad attitude has come earlier these past few seasons. My only solace I guess is I am not alone. Many, if not most of the small retailers in my small slice of the planet are struggling also. It is just a matter of degrees. Enough business to keep the doors open, but not enough to make more than a small dent in the backed up shit pile politely referred to by more competent business folks than me as "my debt load".

I considered whether I should write a post that was full of whining woe is me dribble. No one likes to listen to a whiner. But I forged ahead anyway. I mean this blog to be a true representation of my mindset when I decide to spew forth with what's fermenting inside the cranial void. And maybe some relief....some small putrid puff of the foul fuming mood that is poisoning my summer will vacate the premises.

Hmm.............................

It sure would be nice........It would sure make me feel less guilt..........If I could place some blame somewhere besides at my own feet. Certainly situations outside my control have in recent years made the struggle tougher. Ultimately though it is up to me to suck it up and deal with it. Or lock the fcuking doors and give it up.

Hmm...........................

But Mike that would mean chasing a job at age 58 and working for someone else. And with a body worn down by 45 years of manual labor and a mind corrupted early by massive doses of substances that felt good but left me with a face full of deep scars..................

Hmm.........................

Okay. I've bared some soul. Opened a few wounds to the light of day. As I pursue some bliss or even just a hint of it's scent, I realize this too will pass. But like a kidney stone, it's passing is agonizing and seems to take forever to finally give up some relief.

Hmm.............

These tag along photos did the trick. I can't read this post without chuckling.

You know what? None of this shit matters. As cathartic as self pity can be, this post was not. But posing for these ham-fisted self portraits was.

Now I sit rocking out to "Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magik". A tough day awaits me tomorrow. Just another tough day in a mind numbing series of tough days to come. But tonight, I found some peace.

Keep it 'tween the ditches..........................
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PS - Once again the magic of digital technology developed by some geek with sweat stains in the pits of his polyester button down plaid shirt has rewarded this dimwit with another excellent, albeit accidental, visual snippet of the beautiful world just beyond my dooryard. The flowers are about the size of a nickel. Thousands grow under the white pine canopy across the road in Mary's Woods.

Like I said, none of the crap I build up in my mind matters. Especially when I see these floral volunteers working so hard to keep the World from becoming too ugly. If they can show up for work year after year, I guess I can too.

Enjoy...