I think it started with the squirrel
Winterfair, why have you forsaken me? Okay, the Covington/Cincinnati show was a bomb for me. I barely made enough money to pay my December rent and only that because I was doing so poorly I let a $600 necklace, that took me a looong time to make, go for $300. I'm grateful for the money, but selling all that work for next to nothing was degrading and depressing.
What else went wrong? Well, besides the miserable sales, there was the injured finger that swelled up like a balloon, the lack of high-speed internet connectivity in my expensive Marriott hotel room (in spite of what they say on their web site), the daily headaches, the ongoing backache, the $12.99 phone call, the $13.58 breakfast, $1.50 vending machine sodas, limited cable TV, a worthless remote, the broken dolly wheel, the cart that tipped over, the wreck that added at least a half hour to my drive home, and the price of gas - that's the quick list that comes to mind. I think it all started with the squirrel. When I was driving home with the truck I borrowed to do the show, I had only been on the interstate for a minute when a squirrel did a suicide run in front of me. Crap! Thump! Damn, sorry little guy. I'm not superstitious, but when it happened I wondered if that might not be an omen.
Before I get any more depressed I'm going to have some affordable breakfast, buy a dolly wheel, and make some stuff that I will NOT sell at a reduced price.
At some point, when I have time and inclination I'll go into detail about the various misadventures above. For now, blarg!