Finished Painting

This morning (to be fair, it was afternoon, but I’m going to pretend it wasn’t) I finished my oil painting.  It’s so odd the way that moving one line, less than an inch, can change an entire painting.  I made the mistake of finishing the painting a day ago and being afraid to move the lines.  This morning, when I sucked it up and scraped about a teaspoon of black oil pastel off the canvas and put about a teaspoon right back on, I was rewarded with a face that looked somewhat more like th face I wanted to see.

For some reason, I didn’t have any coffee in the middle of all this.  Now I’m paying the price of being exhausted and groggy and completely sucked back into this medical drama I can’t seem to get enough of.  Somehow I did laundry, went to the gym, did dishes, and met my friend for a pint, and folded laundry. And even though I have to get up early, I’m just not ready to go to bed.

Maybe some black tea will help me.  I just don’t get how finishing a painting can sap me like this…

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