I’m realizing that on the days I don’t do anything art related, I feel shitty. I need to do the art stuff to feel OK. And right now, I have a bunch of things that I have to get done that are NOT art. I should draw this weekend. Maybe that will help. If I have the brainpower. Right now, not so much. Right now, I just want to pillow fort with a book.
It is Friday. Short week. I’m off today. Like off of work. Biopsy this morning. Not allowed to go back to work afterward. Will come home and work instead. Catch up on planning and grades. Because I’m behind again. My kids are apparently being jerks in class. I don’t have a sub; three teachers don’t have subs. I feel bad, but I didn’t want to wait three more weeks for an appointment. So I took the cancellation. I’m gonna leave in about 20 minutes, get a giant-ass needle inserted in my poor boob, wear a compression bandage for 24 hours, and hopefully get negative results in 3-5 business days. Which might not even be next week due to the holiday. It’s fine. Odds are with me.
I woke up too early, couldn’t sleep, did the work things I needed to for today. Worked on a doc with my team even though they were at school and I wasn’t. Technology is amazing. I thought I’d be able to get some grading done this morning, but the brain is not complying. Not surprising. It’s OK. I’ll get it done this weekend.
So instead of art, I’ve been trying to finish up this lap quilt for a friend. It’s taking much longer than I thought it would. Of course. I got the binding machine stitched on over the last two nights after finishing the quilting…
Then last night, I made it halfway around. I didn’t cut the binding; our other friend did, and it’s fucking tiny as hell! I only make quarter-inch binding on really small quilts, like 12×12″. This is a pain in the ass. Sigh.
Remind me not to volunteer for this stuff again. I think I was voluntold actually. But really. I’m making a baby quilt. I’ll finish my mom’s quilt because it was a gift (and it’s tiny). But that’s it. I’m done. I’m doing my own shit. I need the art time for my sanity. It’s not just the sewing or the making…it’s the sewing and making stuff that feeds my art brain.
That last one. Also Cleaning Things Without Being Asked. That’s a good one. I don’t see that one often enough.
No dress…I do need pockets in all my pajamas though. That would be cool. I notice men’s pajamas are more likely to have pockets. Like why? WTF?
Kitten is contemplating the movement of my feet under the duvet.
The duvet she vomited on at some point. So now it needs washing. I need that love language thing again. Apparently I’m the only one who knows how to strip the bed alone.
Anyway. I’m gonna go take my meds and pack up my book and get ready for the pokey shit. Happy birthday yesterday to my mom, who left me her dog (stinky) and cookies (tasty) for the weekend. May the rest of today go as well as it can. May the bruising be minor. May the compression wrap be less annoying than it sounds. May there be art in my future.
Kathy Nida 