Last month was a disaster on the financial front, but more importantly both our kids had minor relapses. Not major, which is a good thing, but minor. Enough so that it made it clear that I’m never actually going to have a life of my own. My life for the last half decade, such as it is has been work, paying bills, and taking care of the kids.
In the cracks Donna has kept with me though that’s something that I believe she is losing patience for (perhaps lost patience for an is too nice to lay it out). In the cracks I can write and paint. I get the cracks in time between one responsibility and the next. There is no time to live my life. Some would point out that this is my life and I am living it but others would be less pedantic and know what I mean. I am not living the life that I want other than in tiny slivers of time stolen from other tasks.
A friend called me last night after I got home from work. I was trying to settle in to do some gesture studies when the phone rang. He is having trouble with his computer again and wants me to come look at it. He’s dying so I’m not about to say no and arranged things for nine in the morning. Nine would allow time to get to work before opening so there would be time time in to layout a new painting. He called me back a little later pushing the time to 10 because he has trouble dressing in the morning. It wasn’t deliberate, he didn’t plan to wreck the morning but it is done and there’s no cure for it.
I’m reminded of that old line from so many movies “No one here gets out alive.” Ain’t it the truth.
In the meantime here is the most recent in the Depanneur series for the Celebration Canada 150 / Montreal 375 show.