The Wednesday Painter has a cold (must have been all that gargling dust and gravel). But there is painting to be done and only he can do it.
Enough talking in the third person. My head feels like cotton wool and my nose feels like it might explode with all the mucus.
In the morning I werk some more on 'Home Sweet Home'. I can see an end in sight, so I hang it in the house and sit and gaze and ponder and scrutinise.
The heart/green neon area obviously needs more werk, but the rest is looking good to my eyes.
At lunch time I slice through the top of my thumb cutting garlic. The blood just kept pumping out.
Recovered from my injury and all plastered up, I return to werk and give the blue neon morse code a good seeing to.
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