As usual, it’s Saturday night, and I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. But this week, it was a truck full of customers.
We had our first back-to-back $1000+ days since we took over the
café. And almost made it back-to-back-to-back—missed it by fifteen bucks
today.
So this is not the desperate, frustrated,
one-step-forward-two-steps-back kind of tired I’ve been slogging through
for the past eight months. This is the "We just might have finally
turned the corner" fatigue for which I have been thirsting all these 273
days.
And I am just too damned beat to write any more.
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THE HOT FLASH CAFE
July 1, 2006...
My husband's fiftieth birthday. Three hundred forty-seven days previously, I had leapt flailing into that same thin air.
For whatever reason, on that auspicious day, we looked into each other’s eyes, held hands and stepped off a yet more ominous precipice into an even murkier future...
We bought a restaurant.
My husband's fiftieth birthday. Three hundred forty-seven days previously, I had leapt flailing into that same thin air.
For whatever reason, on that auspicious day, we looked into each other’s eyes, held hands and stepped off a yet more ominous precipice into an even murkier future...
We bought a restaurant.
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- flashbacks (1)
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