Overtimes

Sickness and onslaught of overtime don't do well for one person's morale. Having to miss two sketchwalks because my flesh could not endure more abuse was not conducive to my mood. But we carried on. I have finished the black book with 12 paintings for Inktober. It's a miracle I've only missed five, given the amount of ordeal I'd had to go through. We make do, perhaps. The old dog also learned some new blending tricks with acrylic markers, so that's a win overall. With this, I'm officially rid of ongoing sketchbooks and could freely start a new one. I intend to take a break until I'm released of the overtimes I've been expected to take. It's not a very easy thing, every bone in my body is bent the wrong way, every braincell I could muster blame it for the plans I had to cancel. I could always go to the two sketchwalks destination alone once everything is over, but I could not deny I was pissed. It would not be the same too, because the urban sketchers group secured permission to roam…