Write a four line poem about something or someone that has been: pushed aside.
That was the general feeling I was picking up from the vendors around us this morning. The farmers market was shifted from our usual place on the first block of Main Street to the street adjoining it (same as two weekends ago) and the next block of the street parallel to Main.
That meant there was enough room for all the vendors... but still no room for our vehicles. Turns out? There's a big difference between making twenty vendors park their vehicles, unload their wares, and then park elsewhere and making sixty or so vendors do that.
The community market, however, got to stay exactly where they are every week - the second, third, and (I think) fourth blocks of Main Street. So the farmers were feeling a little pushed aside, especially those of us who got there on the later side of setup (hi, bringing a toddler with us early in the morning tends to slow things up a bit), as we were quite far away from where people would expect to find us.
Business ended up being okay for us, but I spoke with and overheard several others who did significantly less trade than normal.
Pretty sure we won't be trying this experiment again next year.
Tonight Kat, myself, and Max have our home to ourselves once more. Definitely enjoying it right now, but we'll see if that feeling lasts once work recommences on Monday evening.
An elbow to the face
Moved me from my place.
I can do naught but wail -
You're first to the sale!