Murdered By Me

Part of me was determined to paint canvases all day. My plan was to leap out of bed and begin A glorious day of painting using all of my favorite colors – especially oranges, yellows, pinks, and purples. Let’s get out there yells the planning part of my brain. The lazy part of me began arguing loudly. Not out there! It is too bright. Stay inside. Safe, behind black out drapes. In mole-like limbo, I have been languishing without light unless you count the TV. For eight hours I have sat in a recliner, clicking through show after show. None uplifting, most violent or sad. A letter comes from my doctor via my husband who has ventured to the mailbox. There is a nasty tone to it. Apparently I had missed an appointment. Unless she hears back in four days, our relationship is over. Okay by me. I was getting tired of listening to her talk about herself anyway. I turn off the TV and open the front door. The light overwhelms me. Intimidated, the melancholy side of me urges me to take a nap. Painting will have to wait until inspiration and enthusiasm return. Both had been aptly murdered by me today.