For the past two hours I have been a living ode to laziness and refusal to accept the weather. It is simply to cold to get out and go to the studio just yet, it is too cold to go have breakfast, it is to cold to get my clothes from the dryer; all in all it is just too cold to do any activity that requires me to leave my bed, warm, delicious, soft bed. I began reading a book out of this refusal to be dynamic. Dear Murakami has been my company for this time ( I am terribly sorry Foucault! but you are too far away in the living room!). So I decided to blog since I am not ready to get out of bed yet. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful day outside, I will possibly jog to the "casa de cambio" (wonder what they are called in English, not Exchange House I believe), comeback and start my day. Possibly, maybe just get my clothes and go paint. Hmmm, that sounds so much more convincing. I'll read some more, eat and then go paint, I must finish my painting today, tomorrow there will be a critique and my still life would be moved again.
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