An amicable breakup
My work-station for the day. I auctioned off all my furniture… so I had to get inventive… which meant hauling six pallets up the stairs to build a table. I’m loosely supervising my warehouse being emptied off all its contents this week. Emphasis on loosely… since there isn’t much required of me other than my presence.
Three of my massive bandsaws have already been loaded up and moved to their new home along with most of my racking.
Part of me thinks I should be feeling a bit sad about this whole endeavor. After all I’ve poured fifteen years of my life into this business. But in all honesty, I’m also very much over it. Or… I could also be a sociopath… that’s the other option I’ve been mulling over.
Maybe this is what an amicable break up feels like. You know, when you don’t break up with her on her birthday and she doesn’t try stab you with a kitchen knife…
For lack of anything better to talk about, I keep getting asked what I’m going to do now (with the rest of my life).
I try to be glib about my future plans. But really, I have no great ideas. I might need to confront (at some point) the darkness in my own mind that I have no great enthusiasms left.
I’ve been avoiding that particular confrontation by playing Playstation and eating myself into obesity. Kicking the can down the road.For the longest time all I wanted to do was build something up. And then… all I wanted to do was burn it all down again.
Now all I want to do…
…is have breakfast. At my favorite bakery. Which doesn’t exist anymore.