I was all set to share a post about Maria and I painting ceramics, and our eager anticipation of picking them up today. But... pfttttt!! They couldn't find us in their system. Uh... we were in your store for two days, for seven hours! Hello? No record of us, or our plates, or anything. And I can hear the studio dude assuring me, You won't need the receipt. Don't worry. Why did I believe this? Why? Ok... they found our paperwork, and figured out that our plates are in the kiln, and not ready, yet. But the shop is out of our way, and traffic, and timing, and just the long span of time when we were standing in front of them feeling anxious, and replying, Yes, we exist. Yes, we were here. No, my name is not Judy, or Mary, Susan, Steven, Trish. Yes, we paid. Yes, we are quite sure.
It's not an actual crisis, I know. And nothing about this is interesting or compelling, worth repeating... it's just that I am having a kind of hard