Milk for You and Me
Sadly today we had half our milk supply stolen. No idea why anyone would need about 40 litres of milk, but very little we can do about it. Guess it is a sad reflection of life as we know it. In relative safety, in a small village that mimics life as it used to be 25 years ago, we have not reached crime statistics and we do not intend to have security cameras installed. We decided to report the incident not because it will get us the milk back, or its value, but mainly because such acts do no always happen in isolation.
I am not angry with the person, I guess they had a need for it in one way or another. What interests me is the timing; I had literally finished entering all the accounting data in the fab accounting programme supplied by the accountant and realised that maybe, just maybe we should be able to take a small wage each month for the many hours put in. I have not yet managed to find a way to write off stock so that will be explored next.
Three months have passed since we moved in and started life in the village shop. I have mixed feelings about the intense changes that have happened but I know that this is a way of life for us that reflects our values and beliefs and that will be sustainable in the future.
Working for yourself is a leap of faith : you take the idea and run with it into the unknown. You have a backpack with skills, ideas and expectations and no idea how the journey will pan out. Last year, we had plenty of time and very stretched monetary resources; now we are in danger of tipping that balance by living, breathing and using every minute of the day and thought on the business. Being employed leaves someone else that worry. What you gain is being at the helm of your life and taking it in both hands and steering it the way you want to go, instead of being a passenger on someone else's business journey.
Gladly we have a pub 2 doors down and when we end the day, we go and check reality with the community, raising a glass to life as we know it.
DH reckons I must be anticipating a plague as the stock room is full to the ceiling with toilet paper and kitchen roll ; life's essentials you would not wish to be without. Not perishable though like cheese!