Sunday Rapture
Many things have turned along with the weather lately. Snow has permeated the lining of hearts, frost powders the lips, and hibernation has crept in on big grizzly feet. The little heater strains all day to chase away the bitterness left behind by summer stragglers. Tomorrow we’ll have real heat. Finally, after all the troubles we’ve had getting the right heater for this shop.
I find myself color-coding and tabbing files, reorganizing nonessentials, and other incorporated domestic servitudes. Not that they need tending. I’m an automaton in winter mode. Like the seasons, I cycle.
Ganesha has curled up beneath the chip rack, his subtle purr gives him away. Mojo wanders the aisles looking for a patron to rub his glossy black head for luck, while Arthur dances on my kneecaps, never satisfied. The only thing missing is Merlin. I think about him in his new home, warm and happy. I miss that dog and his way of melting me with a single look.
It’s Sunday, the end of my work week. Hopefully it will keep me busy enough to forget the pain in my lower back. Usually, the shop is filled with the scent of fine oils; Today it’s mentholatum deep heating rub. It does little for my strained muscles, so pushing my antiquated Kirby around is not an option, not yet anyway.
I’ll make signs for our impending Halloween sale, list items to mark down, stock shelves and design some more stickers with tips for winter magick. Maybe I’ll even put out some more Spell Craft cards.
The Library of Shadows has been shelved for the time being. While most are thankful for the loan, others find it too difficult to return the volumes. The average cost per book, per loan, has exceeded my budget. We need the room for inventory on order anyway.
I’m considering selling the second computer. Interest in it has waned, and it sits quietly taking up space in the book section. Besides, I could use the capital for another order. Things are constantly changing in here. Like the frosty breezes that pull at the windsocks out front, ever moving forward, evolving from dreams to the tangible.
I find myself color-coding and tabbing files, reorganizing nonessentials, and other incorporated domestic servitudes. Not that they need tending. I’m an automaton in winter mode. Like the seasons, I cycle.
Ganesha has curled up beneath the chip rack, his subtle purr gives him away. Mojo wanders the aisles looking for a patron to rub his glossy black head for luck, while Arthur dances on my kneecaps, never satisfied. The only thing missing is Merlin. I think about him in his new home, warm and happy. I miss that dog and his way of melting me with a single look.
It’s Sunday, the end of my work week. Hopefully it will keep me busy enough to forget the pain in my lower back. Usually, the shop is filled with the scent of fine oils; Today it’s mentholatum deep heating rub. It does little for my strained muscles, so pushing my antiquated Kirby around is not an option, not yet anyway.
I’ll make signs for our impending Halloween sale, list items to mark down, stock shelves and design some more stickers with tips for winter magick. Maybe I’ll even put out some more Spell Craft cards.
The Library of Shadows has been shelved for the time being. While most are thankful for the loan, others find it too difficult to return the volumes. The average cost per book, per loan, has exceeded my budget. We need the room for inventory on order anyway.
I’m considering selling the second computer. Interest in it has waned, and it sits quietly taking up space in the book section. Besides, I could use the capital for another order. Things are constantly changing in here. Like the frosty breezes that pull at the windsocks out front, ever moving forward, evolving from dreams to the tangible.
posted by Susan at 2:25 PM
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