Heavy cocktail of meds turned Riley into a zombie dog last night - at least she slept like a rock. Though, she looked roofied. Brody decided he should be a little off this week as well. Also, added a gallery to Waaagh.co as I want to stop the 'gram again.
Riley was unwell in the small hours and required company, which she is entitled to and did not need to ask for. I have been awake since. The early rising I complained about yesterday now reads as a rehearsal.
I appear to have become a person who wakes early. Nobody consulted me about this. The quiet mornings are, admittedly, excellent, which is the most irritating part.
Woke considerably earlier than intended and turned it into three hours of painting, which felt like theft. Then spent four hours debugging a server, which returned the stolen goods with interest.
Five hours painting, five hours reading, five hours of films. I want it noted that this is a balanced allocation: three disciplines, equal weighting, no favouritism. That not one of them required standing up is immaterial.
A full day of applying pigment to small objects. The morning's went unsupervised. The afternoon's happened with my wife, my daughter and my mother-in-law present, which is a different discipline entirely - one where "it's meant to look weathered" is not accepted as a defence.
Transferred a modest sum to Olden Demon via Ko-fi. One feels a civic duty to support a chap whose steady, unflappable pessimism regarding our shared plastic affliction provides a genuinely vital public service. Somebody has to keep him in tea while he explains precisely why your pile of shame is an existential failure.