I am starting you with tea and my laptop instead of my REAL computer. It feels a little weird typing this from the kitchen table instead of from inside the Art Cave, as if I still am traveling. I have a sneaking suspicion that, weirdo that I am, the things that say "home" to me are my cats, my masks, and the desktop of my computer, and without the third member of the triumvirate, I'm just not home yet. (Ben, in an effort to make up for this, is sitting on my arm while I type, cutting my wpm significantly. Also, he just sneezed in my face. Eccckkk.)
But I'm very glad I painted that one wall before I left.
Today, we venture onto the frozen tundra to hunt the wily fridge-beast in its lair, and take one of the proper size to provide food for the entire tribe. Never fear, conservationist brethren! We shall be very humane, and use every part of the fridge, although I won't swear that the lettuce crisper won't be filled with beer.
Let us pray that we are successful, or else we must implore the shaman to placate the great refrigerator spirit, and you just know that's going to end with the beagle dressed as a Maytag repairmen. Those shamans, man. I dunno.
After the hunt, I will hang art. Or perhaps make art. One of the two, anyway.