Snow Day

My friends in Buffalo are rolling their eyes at how little it takes for us in the Ohio River Valley to call a snow day. A bit of ice on the roads, some flocking on the trees. This morning I looked out the window and said, “Oh, look how pretty.”

And took a snow day.

It’s one of the perks of running your own shop. You can choose to stay home when you need to. You don’t get paid, though. Which is one reason people who run their own shops don’t take many days off.

I sent the usual notices by social media and email, but those don’t catch everybody, so some may arrive at my little café and find the doors locked. Which will displease them.  Especially since it’s cold and icy and they came all that way for a nice lunch.

I’ve been telling them for months to reserve before they come. Send me a text, I say. Call if you must. But reserve, please. Do they do it? Not always. Not everyone. I forgive them. Will they forgive me? ¿Quién sabe? 

Alas: there is no one in the building who can tape a sign on the door offering apologies and explanation. Which is another reason I took the day off: empty building. Who wants to make lunches alone in a big old empty building?

My regular help took a snow day, too. Domino effect.

The reverberations of a single decision are felt along the fault lines of an entire community. Hmm. That’s meta.

Seth Godin says when we’re considering whether our work has value, the question to ask is, would anyone miss it if we stopped doing it?

A few missed me today. I’ve got their texts, their social media comments. So my work has value. Good to know. Sometimes you gotta take a day, right? As a friend used to say, how can they miss you if you never leave?