Good gracious, it’s SATURDAY! The sun is out, the big fat dove is in the tree making a racket. Chaucer is in Shawshank‘s lap, and Pippin is perched on her little table by the back door. I’ve been up since before 6am.
The entire town lost the internet yesterday: wifi went down and cell coverage was almost nonexistent. Since I couldn’t even submit my post, a morning makeup stream was out of the question. I spent the morning and afternoon crafting, and finished the last of the unfinished pants. Most of the time, I wrestled a sheer curtain panel on the floor, trying to decide the best way to cut it. I know I can make two pairs of pants out of the two panels, with some leftovers. They would still have a lot of fabric and need a proper waistband. However, I’m also pretty sure I could make four pairs out of shit. Eventually, I decided
- no matter what, I’m still getting at least two pairs of pants out of these curtains
- the curtains cost me $5, and as long as I sell one pair, I’ve made my money back.
- just cut the fucking fabric already
So I cut one giant panel into two less-giant panels, then folded them up and put them away. Around the same time, Shawshank texted to say they had internet service in the shop again. Stuff worked here, and I did internet things for the rest of the day.
I cut off my afternoon stream early, since I needed to pack up all the pants inventory before we went up to the restaurant. I checked them all and cut any missed threads, then rolled them up neatly and put them in a couple of co-op tote bags.
The ladies fucking loved them. I ended up selling five pairs of pants – half my stock. The restaurant owner put my favorite pair right over her sweatpants and kept talking about how comfy they are. Neither balked at my “in-person” cost, which was a good feeling. I even left with requests to be on the lookout for specific colors and patterns.
We don’t need to leave the house today. Shawshank‘s boss gave me a box of bedding and curtains, and a few things are in the wash right now. I plan to finish cutting the sheer curtain panels. Otherwise, we’re sloths.
