A few weeks ago I was chatting with my cousin and she was asking me how things were going since I have a show coming up. I gave a noncommittal reply and said things were going. She’s a teacher, so she started to give me suggestions on how to balance my work and I shrugged her off with a ‘yeah, yeah’ answer which lead to me waking up the next day in cold sweats of anxiety that I was pretty much screwed.
It ended up being the kick in the butt that I needed and I wrote tasks for every day leading up to the show so that I would actually have some inventory and not be sitting at the booth trying to sell hugs.
This whole process has been pretty enlightening and I have discovered that I work much better in the morning, and so instead of sleeping in, I’ll have to make time for an afternoon nap instead. #MyHeartBreaks. #FirstWorldProblems. It has also been helpful to see how much I can tolerate to make in a day before I want to throw my sewing machine out the window.
I am rounding the last week, so from this point onward until the show date, my brain has decided it is time to be filled with complete dread that I won’t sell a damn thing at this show and that all my ideas are actually made of 100% Grade ‘A’ cow dung.
Only Brian truly knows the extent of my neuroses, but it gets pretty bad. I sprayed water at him in the car last week as a joke and he vowed Lex Talionis. Needless to say, I now live in constant fear that he will retaliate by scaring the shit out of me. I absolutely hate being scared and the build-up makes it even worse. Life is basically intolerable until I forget, which is probably also the precise moment he exacts his revenge.