Sep 10, Another No-art Day

It’s 7 pm and I’ve just clocked out of my contract job. At this point in the day my biological clock says “Stop! It’s time to shutdown. No more thinking, no more calculating, no more trying and striving. Now’s the time for guilty pleasures.” By “guilty pleasures”, my clock means watching Masterchef, which I will be doing tonight.

Besides guilty pleasures, there’s family time, which starts at 7:30. We take showers, finish up the day’s dishes, and sit down to write the shopping list for tomorrow’s trip to the co-op. I have to decide whether I’ll be cooking something special over the weekend, or will I just eat beans all week?

For the first time in months I’m able to work while Nacho the Pug is in the room. He’s reached the stage where he’s content to sit and chew on his toy at my feet while I’m typing. Until recently he was so devilish that I couldn’t take my eyes off him for a second lest he be tearing all of the pillows off the sofa and generally vandalizing the house. Ah! It’s so peaceful tonight.

Today Sucked

Dear Diary,

I haven’t had a day like this in years. An old friend who lives in my body revisited me three days ago. And today I’m covered with itchy bumps, as if I had been flayed with nettles. Flu-like symptoms abound, with aching muscles, chills, and fatigue.

I did still manage to crack open my iPad and starting cleaning up my children’s book cover image, mostly erasing some areas where I painted too far outside the line work. The image looks much the same as it did yesterday, so I’ll refrain from posting a look-alike picture today.

And now I’m off to spend the rest of the evening with my family. After that I’ll go to bed and read a little. Lately I’m reading Jackson Pollock: An American Saga, by Stephen Naifeh and Gregory Smith. It’s got tragedy written all over it from page one. How cool is that?