A Well is Deep Hole

I kind of wonder if people are just big wells.

Bubbling, rippling wells made up of emotions, stress, love, disappointment, joy, and all those other oh-so human feelings. And there's only one way out, and that's up. No dallying streams, or way ward rivers siphoning off the greater depths. Just one way, so it's basically all or nothing.

So, when said human pours all that writhing mass of seething waters into any daily task, such as, oh, I don't know, laundry, then the rest of their endeavors are lack-luster at best.

"Sorry, honey," one might say. "I can't give you any moral support right now, because, gosh dang it, I poured my heart and soul into folding laundry this afternoon. I'll skip it tomorrow, so I can be more supportive, m'kay?"

Maybe it's just me that's like that.

Hence why I haven't been drawing anything on here lately. I've been drying up my well making Christmas presents, treats for choir, and attempting to bend over to clip my toe nails.

I actually toyed with the idea of shutting down the blog because I didn't have anything left. It's like my muse decided to turn into a fat couch potato and only gives me a cursory nod when I walk by. I mean, I was considering doing tutorials just to having something to type, for heaven's sake...tutorials...ick.

I felt like Maurice Sendak's potted plant that was slowly being eaten by a dog: It had nothing to say. It had nothing left to say it with.

My proverbial mouth is full of sand, and I'm struggling to mouth a silent "water."

And then I got a random "like" on my facebook page from a complete stranger, and I thought, Okay! I'll try today! I'll squeeze one more thing out of this old, dried up well!

Which, I have to tell you, was really hard since I folded laundry this morning AND put it away.

But, for you, random stranger, I spat out that mouthful of sand, and managed to lick the tiny stamp of artistry in me, and present you with this.

Bet you're sorry now.