No sales.
The café put up a half-dozen outside tables, making possible the vending of my wares, but before I could figure out how to keep six-feet from customers (and decide whether to have wipes handy for any books or money that exchanged hands), someone complaimed to the authorities that they were too close together, and most were taken away.
However, my application for a Small Business Disaster Relief Loan has been granted. The first year is interest free, after which I am to repay it at $5/month, plus 3.5% interest, which, I figure, given tje actuarial tables, a good chunk of which is likely to be coming out of my estate. All I had to do for final approval was answer some bruising multiple-choice, identity-confirming questions (“In what year were you born?” “In what city is Shattuck Avenue?”), have my credit rating approved (a snap), and agree, among other things, to make my best effort to use American-made products and equipment. (Does that mean I can’t have my next book printed in Canada – or China – without getting a call from Attorney General Barr?)
In other news…
1.) The link to my latest “First of the Month” article went up at Facebook, where it garnered 26 fewer “Like”s than photos of my second-cousin’s cat and 56 fewer than photos of someone else’s tomato plants – not even Jerseys.