I corrected a minor thing on one page (it’s not important — I just got more repetitive than I wanted to, so I changed a couple words) and added some paragraphs to the [about] page.
Usually I don’t go into personal stuff, but this is important enough I’ll mention it here: We have passed mid-month, and things are going to start to get scary shortly. One thing I want to work on today is processing the new photos of those bracelets I have already listed on Etsy, as well as rewriting their descriptions. I am shit at marketing, but I should be able to produce something palatable and informative. I’m fighting with myself about going to my friend Carrie’s house when she’s out of town, which she will be this weekend, but I have blanket permission to do so, so I’ll likely go ahead. My ass is on the line. What can I say.
If I don’t photo-edit today, I’ll start work on a sample portrait. I can’t screw around with that anymore. Bracelets are nickel-diming, but I’m pretty sure with the size portrait I’m going to start with that I’ll be charging about $75 for that, postage-paid (fast shipping extra). It’s cheap for an original, but I don’t have time to deal with looky-loos who are disappointed I don’t have Walmart prices. This pretty much IS a Walmart price for what I can do. Also, I have envelopes I can actually ship them in. The portrait I did of Sandor “The Hound” Clegane is large enough that I had to go to the store and find a bigger envelope. I’m still going to be scared to ship him. Cardboard backing only goes so far. (He’s on Bristol board, so I can’t roll him up.)
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(I have applied for work. I’m in the unenviable position of only having my phone catching signal less than one-tenth of the time that I’m home at Dad’s house. And that includes phone calls. And no one calls or, if they do, they don’t leave voicemail, which is annoying because right now it’s working. I can’t figure out if it’s my out-of-state phone number, or if they background-check people before they call and found me wanting somehow [I have zero criminal history, though], or if they saw me on social media and noped out. I’m not going to batten down the hatches just to kiss anyone’s ass. Mike Tyson still makes a living, for fuck’s sake. If you’re seriously going to argue I’m worse than he is, we have nothing left to discuss.)
Whine, bitch, moan, complain