A couple of weeks later and a painting is eeking out itself painfully in my living room. The pace at which I am working on this is slower than a snail with a ten pound barbell to pull.
Being a single mom again leaves you with so much to do, that there are days when I just want to collapse in bed with a good book and think and do nothing. And I do just that. My sanity is more important to me.
But the painting sits on an old chair, as my easel has been thrown out (After 16 years old faithfull was attacked beyond recovery by ravenous woodlice) and every so often i chook at it a little.
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