Tired. My grandmother's having the carpet torn out upstairs. Not really for any reason, if the truth were acknowledged, as it so infrequently is. It's noisy around here.
I seem to have lost my driver's license. Probably at the bank, which is the only place I ever take it out. It was another noisy, sleepless day last week, and I was probably too tired to notice when the girl forgot to hand the ID back to me. Yesterday I learned the bank shreds lost IDs after three days. I guess simply calling me would have been bad form. So now I've a DMV appointment at 3:45pm to-morrow, which ought to be a jolly good time.
Only six hours spent colouring yesterday. The day before I believe I spent around nine hours. All together, I must have coloured one and a half pages. Suddenly it doesn't seem terribly realistic that I can draw, ink, and colour a monthly comic, at least not at my current quality standard. But at least I'm going to be able to put together a very nice portfolio for Comic-Con next month. The Morrissey concert was right behind the convention centre, and walking past the big empty place brought back good memories. It really needs to be an all-year thing. Less a Comic-Con than a Comic-Embassy.
Well, I'd better put my limited cognisance to what use I can . . .