I'm tired as fuck, but I refuse to sleep enough, because there is so much going on and I am riding a creative wave, looking for lost and forgotten pans in corners and under the couch, "inventing" shit while I wait for the third filling to dry. The General usually drags me to bed around one in the morning, angry I still have so much to achieve for the day - and then at around seven something I get up and pick right where I left off - some of it is playing games, some of it researching the plague, some of it self-promotion, some of it dealing with customers ... I managed to mess up an order the other day - luckily, albeit expressing disappointment, they were willing to resolve the matter in an amicable way. Now all I need is for the post offices not to close, either here nor there. They will be closing all mail to Italy come Monday, for now the only state going there. But US has been reporting an odd lack of cases, which may have something to do with the fact testing is rather costly and a day may come when they realize they are in a full-fledged end of the world mode and then what will happen to my pretty Etsy, mm?
The paint I invented - well, I mixed three or four paints and bet on the sand within - is a trial between creamy darks and grainy c.mortuum. It is a weird, ugly, messy paint. My best so far, by far. I need more of this shit. Alas, I have no pans and no g.arabic and the othered supplies refuse to come.
May be a good time to sleep two days and then pick up writing a novel for a little while? Library's closed and with a big warning poster on the front gate - one of those you see in the beginning of post-apocalyptic movies, blowing down the street among abandoned cars and swirling garbage empty bags in the air.
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