Earlier this week I was completely enthralled with myself for being business girl. I admit it was sort of a high to work at the computer talking to clients wheeling and dealing like the old days. But now reality has set in. I've had 500 of these lovely calendars that we are selling delivered to my house, or well my car to be more specific. Not a lot of storage space back home at the ranch.
In my infinite wisdom I figured I'd ask my main muffin man to load up my car with the 500 calendars neatly stored in cardboard boxes of 50. I should be selling them so fast that they will be unloaded and turned into cash for Families With Children From China faster than you can say DTC. Reality check. I think that the printer gave us stinky boxes. My car reeks. Yes, it smells like previously wet cardboard. It is slightly better than my dog's previously wet dog smell for comparison. What's the deal did FCC have to pay extra to get non-stinky boxes with the lavender and chamomille essence?
Now main muffin man of out of town on business and I don't feel like unloading 500 stinky calendars all by myself. (Note: the calendars smell fine it is the boxes that are the odiferous culprit.)
I am off to an FCC dancing class to try to unload a box of two on some FCC parents. I just know that Ava's first comments when we get in the truck will be "Hey, it stinks in here." Ugh, she had to get the super sniffer gene.