How I Became Homeless

It all started quite simply. Late in December of 2019, as I sat by the warm glow of the fireplace, relishing the comforting crackles of the burning logs, (I embellished that part, I do not have a fireplace) my wife made an unexpected announcement: she was going to start a business. Intrigued yet slightly apprehensive, I asked, “Oh? What kind of business?” She replied, “I am going to make and sell gnomes…and other stuff.” I didn’t know how to respond; my mind buzzed with uncertainty while I mustered a nonchalant “I seer.” Little did I know, this was merely the beginning of a journey that would turn my life upside down.

Before long, she had established an official entity, an LLC named “The Pin Oak Workshop.” With great enthusiasm, my wife and our two daughters-in-law gathered around the dining room table, where they began crafting whimsical little creatures adorned with beards. The atmosphere was electric with creativity, filled with exclamations of “Oh, that is so cute!” as they established what I affectionately referred to as the gnome makers’ mutual admiration society. As time passed, an impressive inventory of gnomes took shape, and plans were made to showcase their creations at craft shows, fairs, and any other venue where they could proudly display and sell their delightful wares. Meanwhile, I found myself slipping into the shadows, slowly becoming the oft-forgotten, invisible husband of a burgeoning crafter. (Yes, yes, feel sorry for me—how tragic, right?)

Then disaster struck—COVID happened. All the planned craft shows and fairs, the events where eager buyers could meet enthusiastic sellers, were abruptly canceled, leaving my wife and her dreams in limbo. Yet the crafting continued unabated, the inventory steadily expanded, and looming in the background was the specter of my impending homelessness. Why? Because as supplies multiplied, they had to find a home. That home became the garage, the once-cozy dining room, and various nooks and crannies throughout the house. What had once been our warm family home morphed into a chaotic warehouse and factory for the Pin Oak Workshop.

Although attempts to pivot the business to an online presence were met with challenges, eventually, COVID restrictions eased, craft shows resumed, and my wife began to see some financial return for her efforts. One could argue that her growing success filled me with pride; after all, it must be immensely satisfying to know that people are willing to pay good money for something crafted from pure imagination and creativity. Yet, this newfound income did nothing to alleviate my sense of homelessness. As her business blossomed, new crafty items sprang into existence, significantly increasing both the inventory and the demand for storage space.

At this rate, I shall remain a homeless husband until this phase of her entrepreneurial journey ends. Her happiness is paramount to me, and everyone knows that behind a happy wife lies a happy life. How bittersweet it is, though, that there’s never been a catchy slogan about a happy husband—perhaps because the word “husband” lacks a compelling rhyme.

However, if you want to extend a helping hand to ease my homeless predicament, I invite you to visit all the craft shows your budget allows and generously spend your money at the craft booth of the Pin Oak Workshop. Your support would mean the world to me.

I almost forgot to mention, I would truly appreciate it if you could take a moment to share this with your friends and consider subscribing to stay updated on all future content. Your support means the world to me! Thank you, thank you very much! (Imagine me saying this with my best Elvis Presley voice.)