Brush strokes.

I spent a good 12 hours painting this weekend. All day yesterday and a good chunk of today. I’m tired. My lower back and hips are achy. I coulda/shoulda stuck around at Chad’s longer today, but… I couldn’t. I was tired, I was hungry, and I’d had enough of climbing onto a ladder and poking a brush into tight corners. Sloppiness was going to happen soon. Better to stop and come back to it than to burn out so close to the end. That was part of it, too. Each thing I painted revealed something else that needed painting. Yesterday was easier; there were more visible “chunks” of work getting accomplished. No matter, just keep plugging away.

I was feeling the need for company, too, and something more stimulating to focus on than brush strokes. Sherry and I met at Chapters, but it was exactly the environment I wasn’t in the mood for. I wanted to sit and relax and eat and drink, but everyone in the greater KW area was there, so there was nowhere to sit or eat or drink. We wandered around and looked at books, but I am not in the market for books; I have three library books that I am poking my way through. Within about an hour I was getting pretty tired, and the aforementioned lower back and hips were not happy with me, so I headed home. It’s too late in the day to nap if I want to sleep tonight, alas. I still want company. I still want conversation. I can’t get a hold of one person and I suspect I should leave another alone. Which leaves me and the cat and some library books, I guess.

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