In other news, I put up an auction for a Caliban watercolor--James and I had the usual wrangle over price ("I'll start it at $25..." "The hell you will! It's an original!") He's good for my ego, and anyway, if it doesn't sell, it's one more for Anthrocon. (Given the current economy, it seems like I only sell to a few people anyway, who are specifically collecting my work. And that's cool, inherently, it just means sales are otherwise slow.) For a silly quick little piece of a serval chick, it was fun. One of the advantages to having either wrapped up all my work work before moving or delaying it until after is that I have more time to do some originals for the conventions I'll be doing this summer. I gotta do a few straight fantasy for Trinoc.
The bedroom is filling up with apple boxes. Schedules are being discussed. I feel as if I've been hucking pebbles down the slope, and finally it's starting to go--loose rocks are sliding and dust is kicking up and some of the smaller rocks are going boing! boing! pling! as they bounce over the shale and pretty soon there'll be a godawful roar and the unstoppable avalanche of Moving will let go and crush helpless villagers underneath or something. Or possibly I've just had too much caffiene and it's making my metaphors run wild.