My room

My room
“A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” Virginia Woolf

Saturday, July 26, 2014

Stranded

Back at The Big Fancy things were getting worse. The sale that we had worked so hard to prepare for had been an abysmal failure. No one made any money. In part it was because we had no new product. There just wasn't a lot to sell. We were still waiting for our fall merchandise, which had been instrumental in the bump in sales the year prior. Many of the pieces we still had were also old by designer standards. And the sizes were limited.

For the most part, we received product per piece in one or two sizes, so often we would have to order and ship the items to the customer. This was a problem. Why then, would people come into the store to shop if they could do the same thing, and better from home? I tried to spin it and told customers that seeing the product in person and getting the opportunity to see the cut and fabric helped making the decision, but the explanation was as thin as a silk Pucci scarf, and I'm sure they saw right through it.
And if you don't know, now you know

Saturday, July 19, 2014

Collaboration and Interdependence

With Tati gone, days were for the most part uneventful. I also noticed I was starting to get homesick, so I tried to keep busy and create a routine. Ceasar suggested we watch movies over Netflix at the same time and text each other so that I wouldn't feel so alone. We watched Let the Right One In and Bachelorette, but the WI-FI signal in the apartment was so bad I kept having to go to the living room when the signal went idle.

I tried to entertain myself and familiarize myself with the area. I went on walks and discovered  that I lived just two blocks away from cannoli heaven, a.k.a Arthur Ave. and made it a personal goal to eat my weight in Italian pastries.
droool

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Madeline's Arrival (and a Departure)

When Ceasar, my ex, first met me in college, he couldn't stand me. He dubbed me The Girl With The Cocoa-Puff Curls and wondered out loud why I used to walk into the student offices like I ran the place.

Then he saw me in a tank top and we lived together for the next 6 years.
The kid is borrowed for maximum cuteness
If you ever meet Ceasar, however, he's going to lie to you about two very specific things, and I'm here to set the record straight. I never pushed him out of a moving car, and I never stabbed him. Okay? He's a dammed liar if he tells you so. The car was firmly parked and it was a swipe with a butter knife. I didn't even break the skin.

Everything else he tells you is probably true.