Business is not pleasure

So for those of you who haven't heard or are uninformed, I decided in Oct. of 2018 to start my own business- a micro brewery. I took up the hobby of brewing about 5 years ago and decided to take it to the (il)logical next level. It's been a hard slog these last months and it only now seems everything is coming into some sort of focus. It's been like a giant jig-saw pule at times where there are no edges to speak of. You just kind of look at the thing you are building one piece at a time and scream "What the fuck am I doing!?". Stressful moment build themselves into further stressful questions of "if", "when" and of course "why the fuck won't the beer submit to my will?".  None of these questions are ever answered because it's just me trying to answer without any real guidance. Everything is DIY and ad-hoc. My mistress (the brewery) is cold and often ill tempered. She will reward you if you get it right. Fuck up? 400 liters of beer on the floor. You ever wonder what exactly 400 liters of spilled beer looks like in a 4 x 4 meter room with a temp. of 27 C? It ain't pretty. Sometimes I thing I see the light at the end of the tunnel, only to find out that it's a fucking steam locomotive coming my way. Oh and its drunk. Drunker than any fucking drunk drunk you have ever seen.


No seriously, it hasn't been that bad...it's been worse. I'm comforted by one thought: that my mom was wrong. No one has any control of stuff. All of us; you, me, the fucking birds in the sky, we are all just winging it as best we can. I just happen to be doing it ankle deep in spilled beer. Best we can do is just get on with the clean up after the shit hits the fan.