I went shopping today. Not for spic n' span, or socks, or even a new spatula. I went shopping for storefronts.

Oooooo....square feet shopping. There's that math crap again. Someone should be able to just take a string, walk down the street and point at me and yell "This is xnumbero square feet" and then, by jove, I'd have it. All this number on paper stuff does nothing but confuse my lone brain cell.

Why, you ask was I shopping for square footage (Love that word...footage footage footage.), because I want a store. I've always wanted a store, but my inability to cement myself to one project has gotten in the way of that long tended dream. (That...and I'm broke, that puts a damper on everything.)

But, today...since I decided I'm not doing Childcare for much longer (I'm never having children. Never. Little nose wipin' cheese smellin' yellin' short people in socks.) and as fun as the idea of finding another building to open a bigger preschool is...the idea of a store just makes me ooze spittle (such an attractive picture) down the front of my shirt. It's a shoppers dream, to own the store in which all the items you love to molest in other stores live.

You know...shopping...it's like heaven with shoes. See, how could you go wrong with a store?

Anyway, I want a mélange store. Little bit o' this and that, all fun, all cute, all mine...er...well, mine to sell, that is.

So, I'm going to see if I can do up a buisness plan, and find some sweet sap to give me a loan. Maybe this will work out this time...none of my other ideas ever do. Why is that? Hrms...