Gods, those idiot partisan Republicans. Feingold and his witnesses provided clear, unequivocal evidence of Bush's wrongdoing, and yet at the end of it, Arlen Specter acted like the whole thing was a farce.
I didn't finish pencil and ink until 4am, and then decided I'd use an hour before going to sleep to eat and read. At least I have the pleasure of knowing that I work harder than the president of our fine country.
So that means I have one page to draw and ink to-day, two to colour.
I'm still not sure what was wrong with me last night. I feel a little better, but I fear it may return. It wasn't just physical; it had me in a very useless state of mind. I found myself unable to want anything. The idea of finishing the drawing wasn't appealing; the idea of distracting myself with a movie, book, or internet wasn't appealing. I just wanted to sit still and stare blankly at the wall. Fortunately, the thought of how it would be if I got behind forced me to keep going.
I determined there wasn't enough good food around here, so I went to the grocery store at about 2:30am, and I tried to guess what my body wanted. I bought three apples and oatmeal. The apples were very good.