I always hate the Sunday after Thanksgiving. The major sales are ending, you have to go home or your family does, and your checkbook has taken a hit so bad it won't be replenished till St. Paddy's day.
This year I spent the Friday and Saturday after Thanksgiving running a Grand Opening of the jewelry store I am managing. The lines of people alone made me wish for a never ending bottle of wine. But after twenty-two hours in boots that are oh so very cute, but not so much comfortable, I dragged my useless body home and slept.
When I woke up this morning I realized I was sad but not for the same reasons of past years. I realize now I have nothing to do. The past month I was on the phone with various people trying to organize everything that would make the store look perfect. I was consumed with figures trying to decide what to discount and how many free pearls we could give away and still make a profit off the day. And I was frantic at the end to clean like I have never cleaned before. But now, I only have to sell.
I feel a little like what Dorothy must have felt when she returned home from Oz. (Hopefully I won't go crazy and be put away like she in the second movie) She traveled through the forest, made it to the Emerald City and got a make-over, killed the wicked witch, and then found out that a short fat man, who was slighty crazy, was suppose to help her get home. Oh the drama. Then the stupid b*^ch Glinda shows up and says to click your heels together. She wakes up, in black and white, to her boring old life. I don't believe for a second she was happy. Who would want to live in black and white?
Anyhoo, I feel as if I am now in black in white. I live for the color of problems and complications that is the essence of retail during the holidays. Good luck to all who have chosen the life of long hours and complaining customers this Christmas.