8/7/13, Day Three: Ahh, there's nothing quite like a solid ten hours of driving/sales to check into a Motel 6 (in Olympia, WA) and find a pube already on the toilet seat. I wonder if it's Tom Bodet's.

  Today was a long one. My first appt, in Portland, told me in a mildly perturbed tone when I got to the store that she'd never agreed to an appt. Apparently her daughter had, twice, but never thought to check it out with mommy. So what easily could have been a $2000 sale was done in two minutes. I promptly went back home and took a shit.

  With my bowels sufficiently voided for what I thought would be a two hour drive in lovely Chinook, WA on the 101, I set off early. And good thing too, because I hit a lot of road work, making it closer to a four hour drive. At the shop in Chinook, it quickly became clear I wasn't going to do too well there either. It was a small shop that dabbled in all kinds of craft (crap). They didn't want any of my good beads, and I didn't have a good selection of the shitty ones for them to buy much. But, as is often the case, the BRASS box was my saving grace. It's the box of little pendants of seashells, turtles, dragonflies, and the like. It's very easy to spend a lot of cash dipping into that one, and they did. When all was said and done, they spent $904, but then wrote me  two checks that didn't add up. Luckily I caught that, called her on it, and we sorted it out.

  Fun facts from appt one: V, the owner had just had surgery on her aorta, but it was done lapriscopicly through her arm. Fancy science! I overhead V talking about how some clients were building a steampunk clock for the father of a young man who was dying of cancer, the clock representing the three books his son had published on the topic of time.

  Once back in the van, I looked at the map and noticed that the appt that was scheduled for Saturday was right up the coast. Donald (the guy in North Carolina who schedules all the appts) for some reason had booked Chinook today, then sent me to Seattle and Bellingham the next two days, then on Saturday figured it would be a great idea to send me on a six hour drive across WA for a first time buyer. When I talk to Donald on the phone he sounds nice, but I have a feeling it's going to be pretty hard not to want to punch his neck. Amal told me he pulls shit like that somewhat often.

  But not on my watch! I dialed up the shop in Long Beach, asked if they'd see me today since I was so close, and they agreed. And I'm damn glad I did: The shop had tons of beads, and as soon as I got there, the owner B, an older hard ass lady shot down pretty much all my big sellers on account she could get better prices elsewhere. But I fished around until I found something that she and her employee, J, warmed up to. J, by the way, was a very nice guy. He had a very faded cartoon gator head tattoo that showed he'd been in the marines on one arm, and a d list native american design on the other. He was older, and his body was wrecked, rashes and skin tags everywhere. And the smell. Oh the smell. He had the kind of acrid, pungent BO that stays with you. So to the point that I could still smell him 15 minutes after I had left the store, and was alone in my van. I ended up wiping Purell on the inside of my nostrils to burn out the stench. The amazing part is that he was so nice, I almost didn't mind it.

  After the shop spent a whopping $180, I thanked them wholeheartedly for seeing me early (and in my head being VERY relieved that I'd saved myself from the future hell of driving six hours for a crap sale) and checked my schedule for where I need to be tomorrow. Tomorrow's first appt is near Seattle, which was over three hours from where I was, so I decided to at least try to make it to Olympia. So I started to head west, on winding highways with barely any traffic that passed through foggy forests. The kind of forest where for a while it looks normal, then you come upon a patch that's been logged down to the ground. Also got to see quaint lovely towns like Raymond, where I stopped at a gas station that had three port-a-pottys instead of an indoor restroom, there was a one legged man arguing with the ATM, and I got mad dogged by three rednecks in a Jetta.

  I stopped in Aberdeen for something to eat, as I'd only had a sandwich and nuts all day, and didn't want to end up malnourished with a butt water problem like I had on my training run. So, I made the healthy choice to eat a spicy chicken sandwich from Jack in the Box. The curly fries are still out in my van, if anyone wants some. I called Janine to chat for a bit about how it's so stupid that iPhones have so many buttons on the touch screen that can fuck up a phone call (she bumped the mute button twice; WHY DOES A PHONE NEED A MUTE BUTTON?), and then booked a room at the Motel 6 I am typing this thrilling blog at now.

  It's a pretty shitty room. Non smoking that smells like it's only been that way for a few weeks. Hardwood floor, which is the first I've seen of that, actually, No cheesy art on the walls. A microwave and mini fridge. They try to charge for WIFI but make it impossible to figure out how to pay. And the pube on the toilet. But, with my CLC card, it was only $35. You get what you pay for, I guess.

  So let's see: $1085.46 in total sales means that I've made $146.54 today. Minus the hotel room. And the spicy chicken sandwich. Ugh. Ok, I'm gonna go watch Shark Week until I pass out.

  BONUS FACT: Outside of Astoria, OR, there is a place called Cape Disappointment. No joke.