Painting as therapy...

I had a bad day at work yesterday. My bad days at work are very few and far between, but nonetheless, it was not one of my better days. At 5 sharp, I left hastily, looking forward to wrapping some holiday gifts, lighting a fire, and watching tv with Max curled up at my side.

When I pulled into my driveway, it was 5:30-ish and dark. I glanced across my front lawn and thought, "What's all over the lawn?" As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I figured it out. It was most of my split rail fence. I live on a main road, and for the second time in less than a year, someone crashed into my fence. The first time, there was just minor damage to one post, but this time, two-thirds of my fence was spewed like matchsticks all over my lawn. This was not the way I had envisioned my evening to begin. But a couple hundred profanities later, I was over it.

I mean, first of all, the person who hit my fence was obviously having an even worse day than me. And according to the accident report, she wasn't injured, which was good news, and a miracle, given the condition of my fence the auto debris that she left behind.

So I walked Max, lit a fire, ordered a pizza, poured a glass of wine, (and then another) and finished this painting, which is a gift for a friend who has been doing some interior decorating. I stayed up way too late, because I was totally in the zone, but it was the perfect ending to a much less than perfect day.