I Look Terrible In Hats.

It is entirely safe to say that long-term effects of never closing during the height of the pandemic and using every ounce of my mental and physical powers to keep us open and operating successfully is finally catching up to me. And that isn’t for any sympathy, but more for the honestly of I just feel worn out and I think the demands of 2020 have finally captured me. And really that is ironic because all the businesses forced to close are carrying the mental burden of what long closures has done to their business’ ability to survive. So I guess what I’m saying is that either way you cut it…dang, this has been a year for entrepreneurship.

For the first time ever in our history, our October numbers lag slightly behind October 2019. And it really isn’t any wonder, considering we received no large check for our Roots and Blues participation, all fall festivals have been cancelled, and no one in this city is allowed to tailgate. I completely forgot that last Saturday was Homecoming. If a tree falls in the forest without anyone there to hear it, does it make noise? If a Division I SEC school has Homecoming and there is no football game with tailgates, does Homecoming actually happen? WHO KNOWS.

PJP is fine, thankfully. That’s a blessing to be able to say and it is only because of the loyal, continuous, and generous support of our customer base and the long hours of work from Team PJP. I’m tired, only because I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing as I roll us through these last months of the year. I’m also there six days a week and on the seventh day, you better believe I’m working on PJP and thinking about PJP. Ordering $3,000 worth of groceries to be delivered takes more time than you would guess. That’s really the part that no one tells you about this glamorous gig.

When I get like this, I usually dip off of Instagram…only because that is where perfection reigns and I can send myself right into a “HOLY CRAP, I AM THE ACTUAL WORST AT EVERYTHING” spiral. It’s really charming. Ahem. But honestly, I’m not secure enough to scroll through the endless loop of photos featuring female entrepreneurs in cardigans, suede booties, and floppy hats reminding us all to take self-care time on the weekends. Especially since I look terrible in a hat and today I scrubbed a hunk of pumpkin of my Nike. Does that count as self-care? Thank goodness for my 15 year old who steps in and handles the Instagram when I just can’t. Though, for the record, she’s a no on the floppy hat and the perfection too.

So, I don’t have any answers. And this isn’t one of those weird posts that people do that to encourage everyone to be like “YOU ARE AMAZING” in the comments. It’s just real and I’m just sending it out into the great void of the Internet in case someone else feels bad that they don’t have suede booties and self-care Sundays, but instead has dark circles under their eyes. I hear you.