I have stretched a canvas, and resupplied the studio with Galkyd and odorless turpentine . . . I'm ready to start painting, but I have been dragging my feet on Monday and Tuesday . . . I know the art of self-sabotage . . . of procrastination . . . there is always housework to do -- not that I do it . . . i'm like a satellite who has lost her orbit during that time before the brush strokes begin to fall onto the canvas . . . like a pregnancy, i suppose . . . is it a boy or a girl?