I am not meant to be an apartment dweller. Not at all. And today I am little miss cranky pants because I had a terrible night thanks to the kid staying upstairs from me for the summer. Grr. Today I am voting him off the island. Normally I would feel a little bad about it, but not today. Nope. Not at all. (There is more to this story and it involves vomit and me having to sleep on the couch, but we don't need to go into all the details.)
In honor of Father's Day, here is a picture of Roxie playing the ukulele:
She has problems with the chords, just like I do.
There are three paintings in the works at home right now, and I think two of them are going to be okay. Here is a sneak peek:
This has been a crazy week at work and by the time I get home I don't have the energy to do much, but I have (foolishly, knowing my history) set a few goals for the coming week. We shall see how it all turns out.
P.S. Just to be clear, the aforementioned vomit was neither mine nor Roxie's. It was happening upstairs, practically over my head. The move to the couch, a distance of only about six feet as the crow flies, was an attempt to buffer the noise. Listening to someone else puke, particularly at 3 a.m. when I would much rather be sound asleep, is not my idea of a good time.