I had weird dreams about ancient hotel rooms and antique dresses. Wooden steamer trunks (at first I thought it was a coffin), and old fabric.
I want to work on my painting, but I feel like crap. It's really hard to sit here looking at an unfinished painting and not do anything about it – I'll probably do some work on it.
It's so cold in here it feels like fall. I feel like six whole months went by over night.
Netflix sent me "The Prestige". Maybe I will watch it from in bed, under the covers.