Slaying Me.

Well, in case you are curious, all of our CrateJoy shipping boxes of Jelly Jar pies are in transit tonight to destinations all over the United States.  And almost all of them include a Sour Cream Raisin jar, which is only a marginal improvement on an Old Fashioned Raisin jar, right?  In my zeal (and inability to count correctly), we actually made nine extra Rhubarb jars and I'm going to consider that a total win...since not long ago we would have rolled into the end of the day short nine jars somehow.  And I'm going to take progress where I can find it.  They will be for sale on the half-price table at PJP tomorrow, in case small batch Rhubarb pie is your thing. I'm going to straight up say that PJP is slaying me lately.  And not because there is anything wrong with her or because she is struggling in any particular way (except I have to use our bathroom as my office), but only because she's taking everything I've got.  EVERYTHING.  Goodness, I don't mean to be shouty...but EVERYTHING.

I know without a doubt that every entrepreneur feels this way on occasion, but most of us don't discuss it publicly because it sounds awful.  Doesn't it?  Here we live in this world that is seemingly falling apart around us and I'm lamenting my long list of responsibilities about the business I started and run with my mother in modern America.  That's pretty lame, but it doesn't make it any less true.

And when Team PJP vibes that I'm a bit on the hinge and encourages me to leave early, I'll be the first to insist I should stay.  Or if I do leave, I fill the time away with all the mom/wife/house stuff that needs to be done.  (Emptying and refilling the dishwasher at my house is my own personal hell.  I'm the modern day Sisyphus and my rock is the silverware holder.  Also, did you know that 9th graders take Physics and bring home New York Times quality crossword puzzles to complete about Physics?  And they need copious amounts of help in the form of one parent to Google and the other to count the letters to see if it fits?)  So really, between PJP and dishwashers and 16 letter words for Newton's laws of motion, no wonder I'm strung out.  And the people said "amen".

I'll just leave that here as a placeholder so the future me remembers all the ridiculous of my current self.  It's going to be a killer good chapter in the book I'll eventually write about PJP.  And she deserves a book, because she's pretty special...even when she makes me worn slick, she's worth it.  But I'm not writing a PJP crossword puzzle, EVER.