I never thought I'd ever say this, but it's been raining here far too much and for far too long. The weather's been wet since the soggy New Year's Eve camping trip, and I can't remember the last time I saw the midday sun. The plants have been drowning and starting to really fail, and where a couple of sunny days would come in useful, the rainclouds keep hanging around. I can't follow the news lately because it'll either get me really sad or really angry (when a country is mourning the deaths of four navy servicewomen at sea, Malaysia, get a bloody sense of decency and stop taking cheap potshots and picking fights with your favorite neighborhood scapegoat).

I still can't make myself pick up a paintbrush. I've never felt so tired of art. I think I've buckled under my own pressure; I feel like I can't keep it up. Maybe it's just as well there's no more waiting list.