Oh will you bugger off, Claire, I was here first! You keep tapping your foot like that, you're really not going to like where I shove it. You may even have to get it surgically removed.
River usually painted before work...I guess since she's artistic, she gets relaxed when she paints and that carries over into work, so that she doesn't come home stressed. Of course, I have other means of stress relaxation for her. ~evil grin~.
Or if she's not doing that, she's playing guitar. At least this way, she'll complete her life-time wish, unlike Mr. Wants-To-Be-A-Golddigger, but fell like a schmuck for the first pretty face he saw. Well...I guess it was all worth it.
Freakin' Crepes on a Bicycle; Phil, you know there's a bathroom sink for washing your freakin' teeth.
Phil, I think is getting to the point where we might have to bring the wagons and the men in white coats to get him. He's now at the point where he's arguing with himself.
Yeah...really...if he was speckled, had red eyes, feathers and swam around in circles laughing his head off, he'd fit right in the loon pond.
At least we picked a nice place to live...the sunsets are gorgeous from here.
...and me not skilled enough to paint the sunset yet. Oh well...could be worse...I could not have an artistic bone in my body.
If you're wondering why I fence myself in to paint, well, it's not so much for the painting, as it is for my being able to put down my gemstones and ore for pick up later. The door is keyed only to me and no-one else is able to get into my little painting nook. It also prevents people like Vita Alto and Nick Alto from walking onto our unfenced lot and taking my hard-earned rocks. Nick may be mean-spirited, and Vita Alto may be evil, but I'm evil and mean-spirited and if it means taking them out, I'll do so gladly.
But being all mean-spirited and evil doesn't mean a whole heckuva lot when you're upchucking your guts out from feeling sick. Dumpster-diving is a whole new level of vomit-inducing torture. Goodness knows what the heck people throw out.
I swear, I really need to do something about calling the loco-wagon on Phil. He's spending most of the day talking to himself and jabbering on about goodness knows what. He's starting to get me seriously irritated. Maybe I just need to knock him out and put him out of my misery.
It's a thought...(albeit a much welcome one).
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