"It's funny and sad and true," she said.

But she didn't give me a critique, which makes me wonder a bit. It makes me nervous when people have no criticism, although also sort of good. It was, however, the best sort of feedback I've had in a long time.

Packing is.... progressing I guess. Sort of. More or less. There's a bit less clutter in my room and a few more boxes in the dining room awaiting packing. Still have to vaccuum out the car, get the last of the supplies I need, like detergent and cold medicine and chai tea, and tear myself away from the unimaginable comfort of my own room in my own house with my own kitchen and bathroom. Sigh. The hardships we endure to get an education.

I'm not sure what caused me to start a painting in the middle of this madness. I keep thinking, ooh, it needs some of that, and then I dig through boxes again to get out the art supplies I packed away. It's kind of a one step forward two steps backward process. It's helping me keep my sanity though, and with all of this unbalance going on around me, I feel like that's kind of vital. Not only to my peace of mind, but to the continued peaceful existence of my family. I'm a serious falling-apart mess during moving, and I keep repeating "I hate moving" about every fifteen seconds, and I'm just not any fun to be around. Who wants that from a daughter/sister who's going to be gone soon? We all want to be happy together, because it's our last week.

In this way I justify my unpacking of art supplies. Take it or leave it.

Toodle-pip.