It had been a good time to get pregnant. She was in the middle of everything at once, and it was going OK. It was best to be distracted while pregnant, have things to do, to say no to. She was running a little online shop, selling shelves. Why were most shelving systems so ugly? Badly constructed? She’d spend hours, with a mix of power tools and hand tools making her own systems. No Dieter Rams, but she understood how to make something affordably and well, mostly alone. She’d put them up on the store. They’d sell out in a few days. Her boyfriend had a buddy who ran a company that would deliver them in his truck within 100 miles for a flat rate. Some people would even pay freight fees to get them across the country. She was asked to participate in a few local pop-ups by an attractive woman who had recently begun renting a beautiful house down the road; the origins of this woman’s own tight community connections unknown. Chez Chez Chez Chez Chez started selling her stuff, too, and featured her in a magazine ad. She bought five copies of the magazine and sent a few to her parents with a postcard that said, “Look at at the back. My shelves!” Her own home was bizarrely unfinished, mostly charming and incoherent Craigslist finds a few years past expiry. Her boyfriend had low expectations of what their lives would look like aesthetically and was impressed with her woodworking skills. He’d invested instead in a fine hand plane, a mini-shop installation in the garage with a table saw and filtration. He would inherit a cattle ranch from his father that he would sell immediately upon acquiring in order to buy a house, but for now, he worked remotely as a product designer for a major building supplies company. They got a hook up on shipping materials.
Black Bill Part 2
Black Bill Part 2
Black Bill Part 2
It had been a good time to get pregnant. She was in the middle of everything at once, and it was going OK. It was best to be distracted while pregnant, have things to do, to say no to. She was running a little online shop, selling shelves. Why were most shelving systems so ugly? Badly constructed? She’d spend hours, with a mix of power tools and hand tools making her own systems. No Dieter Rams, but she understood how to make something affordably and well, mostly alone. She’d put them up on the store. They’d sell out in a few days. Her boyfriend had a buddy who ran a company that would deliver them in his truck within 100 miles for a flat rate. Some people would even pay freight fees to get them across the country. She was asked to participate in a few local pop-ups by an attractive woman who had recently begun renting a beautiful house down the road; the origins of this woman’s own tight community connections unknown. Chez Chez Chez Chez Chez started selling her stuff, too, and featured her in a magazine ad. She bought five copies of the magazine and sent a few to her parents with a postcard that said, “Look at at the back. My shelves!” Her own home was bizarrely unfinished, mostly charming and incoherent Craigslist finds a few years past expiry. Her boyfriend had low expectations of what their lives would look like aesthetically and was impressed with her woodworking skills. He’d invested instead in a fine hand plane, a mini-shop installation in the garage with a table saw and filtration. He would inherit a cattle ranch from his father that he would sell immediately upon acquiring in order to buy a house, but for now, he worked remotely as a product designer for a major building supplies company. They got a hook up on shipping materials.