Somehow the days don’t seem to be long enough for everything I have to fit in. Luckily the evenings are drawing out and it isn’t dark until gone six pm now,at least that gives me the feeling that I have time, and I can paint longer by daylight.
The trouble is I take my household duties too seriously and feel that because I am married it is my responsibility to shop and cook for my husband,to say nothing of washing and ironing (he wears shirts with collars,not T shirts) Don’t get me wrong I love cooking and eating,but the half of me that would rather be be writing and painting is hammering from the inside wanting to be let out and this is very strong.
In that world where I would like to be food and eating is immaterial as are clothes or cleaning a house that is already overly clean.
I would have my own little cottage by the sea,or even a garret would be acceptable if it was in an inspiring place, and I could write and paint until the proverbial cows come home.
Sometimes I would like to be just like an Artist friend of mine who earns enough through painting to eat (fast food) and buy a ticket to somewhere in the world where the light is good and the weather doesn’t make youvulnabarable to Arthtitis He doesn’t let himself get tied down by people or things,and definitely not by a bad conscience.
But I do.
So I’m busy painting empty jam pots between times, and as usual painting glass is as difficult for me,as snow, mountains and weeping willow trees. It all needs practice,practice,practice.
Even writing a post is proving very difficult! “Have I checked so and so out?” ” How long does the chicken need to be in the oven”? ” I think the potatoes are done”
There is a hammering inside of me again,and I’m wondering whether I should run away.