State of the Wombat

Lordy, it’s been a busy week.

That’s a good thing! The busier I am, the less time I have to brood. There are artists who can slap harnesses on their neuroses and make them pull a plow–Dali comes to mind–but I fear that I have never yet mastered that trick. My sorrows remain stubbornly undomesticated. Better to build walls out of work. I can still hear them pacing on the other side, of course, but eventually they’ll get bored and go away.

Hard to believe that I’ve only been in this apartment a week. I’ve managed to get the living room almost entirely set up, and I feel pretty good about that. It’s comfy, and so much larger than my last place. One walks in and is greeted immediately by the Wall of Bookcases. I also managed to fit in a papasan chair, in case I, y’know, have people over ‘n stuff. Although they’ll have to fend off Ben, who is under the impression that I have bought him the world’s largest cat bed.

The kitchen is also good to go. The office/studio is still in disarray, the bathroom’s semi-functional, and the bedroom is honestly a shambles, but it’ll come, it’ll come.

In between setting up the apartment, I have been working like a fiend on this game project. Four small paintings in a week isn’t that much for me when I’m in top form, but in between unpacking and I-must-go-socialize-before-the-madness-sets-in, I’m getting stretched. I won’t be able to reveal the art until February or so, but it’s good to be painting anyway.

The birds are starting to discover the free handouts. So far it’s just the bolder garden birds–Carolina chickadee, Carolina wren, cardinals and titmice, but I’m hoping for a greater variety as word gets around. Hung three feeders–thistle sock, suet, and finally managed to put up the Yankee Flipper feeder that my father sent me for Christmas. It’s one of the ones that spins wildly when a squirrel jumps on it, flinging them off. Since I have a chair and table out there, I fully anticipate that one of these days, I’ll be sitting out there, enjoying a morning cup of tea, listening to birdsong, not a care in the world, and a squirrel will leap on the flipper and be flung directly onto my head, facehugger-style. “Wait!” I’ll cry, as the EMTs come for me, muttering about rabies shots, while blood oozes down my scalp “wait–I have to blog this–“

For today’s consumer excursion, I’m going to the local plant nursery to see if they can recommend anything more exciting than hostas and impatiens for my shady deck (I’m hoping to find another Florida anise as a foundation shrub) and perhaps a houseplant or two, and then it’s back home and back to the art mines…

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