It was just a question of time before I broke something trying to do internet/website/storefront/domain things.
Well, I broke something. I successfully got the seraphinstation.com domain to point to the Shopify storefront (the Shopify storefront that isn’t open yet because I broke things and because all of this is about 7,000 times harder than I remember it being last time I did it. I’ve been trying to add a variant on a single item for an hour now. Hell, it took me a month to get 20 items on Etsy. Oh, and internet sales tax laws changed since the last time I did this, just to make things that much more fun.)
Anyway, that means the domain name no longer points to the blog, which would be fine *if* I could get the subdomain host I just shelled out cash to this past weekend to play nice with WordPress and Shopify and my URL landed you somewhere where you saw a big fat integrated blog section, but I can’t. I can’t move the blog, and sending me to look at help centers and white papers is kinda like giving a monkey a can opener. *I have no idea wtf I’m doing* and I’m ready to fling this computer out the window. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have fooled with the domain until everything else was locked and loaded, but of course hindsight is 20/20.
Anyway, I guess I have to go everywhere now and update the posted URL to the blog to the real URL for now, which is seraphinstation.wordpress.com even though I theoretically have hosting for the damned thing, which is more time not setting up a storefront, and in between all of this I still have to earn some money at some point to pay the power bill. And still going through records from 2015 and emailing one customer/client at a time. All with an internet connection that moves at the speed of molasses.
(screech) The army taught me to never quit mad. I’m not gonna quit, though i had my finger on the send button at bluehost today. But if I won the lottery, I’d be hiring three people yesterday: an accountant, an internet person, whatever the hell they’re called, and a graphic designer. ‘Cause ten years ago, somehow I was able to fumble my way through all this stuff most of the time. I seem to have *completely* lost the ability to do that. (I suppose my threshold for frustration and my concentration have both been damaged by the fact that every waking moment is a fight not to succumb to a wave of panic or despair over the plagues that threaten this country, be they epidemiological or racial.)
There’s no moral of the story. Except never quit mad. Why? I don’t know. ‘Cause my old drill sergeant said so? ‘Cause you usually regret it later, I think was his point 🥴