Today was one of those "I think I'm having my period, but we'll never know" days. I was cranky and messed up most of the afternoon. Wept like a five year old for an hour, slobbering: "I don't know whyyy I'm saaaad!... ..." Got to give it to the General, he certainly has patience of a Dalai Lama.

But other than that, they began setting up the ugly little white huts that will be my home for the duration of December (Not all of them, just one). I have to invest some brain power into trying to make it attractive, so I don't look like a hobo in an old washing machine shell. These are supposedly more effective conditions wise, though nowhere near as quaint and there isn't any hammering allowed. Which poses certain decoration limitation... I've been given good hints as to heating it with flower pots and tea candles, and hopefully December won't be a total fucking murder icicle fest. I may need certain amount of hot pies from McDonald's (which, I estimate, will be the closest offer if I'm located near Gubčeva) for moral support..

I have no idea how well I will sell my things. I may sell enough to pay my phone bill and buy everyone prezzies, or I may spend a miserable months writing pulp science fiction, paining more and more decrepit angels on dense carton. Uu, I was real lucky with the carton - having ran out of money for the canvas plates, the neighbour frame shop gave me the cut-offs of the passe-partouts, which as pretty much the same thickness and density and I now have a load of them all shapes and colours... The colours alone inspire me to continue paintings. The goal is to have 50 of them by the start of the fair - which is Saturday (3 days to go). I'm doing okay. I'd be a dozen shy if I didn't sell a few of the paintings already :) Not bad, really. Fifty tiny paintings in a months. Luckily I'm an illustrator and I really like coloured pens work. ;)