Managed a bit of painting between the virtuous tasks like recycling cardboard and taking son to piano lesson. Painting, in this case meaning painting minis. I'm not good at this as I haven't been doing it for very long, but slowly, slowly I'm building up technique.
There is something deeply satisfying about prodding about with a tiny paintbrush and filling in a belt buckle the size of a pinhead. Hard to explain, but nonetheless true.
The painting was a reward for actually removing some of the mountainous piles of rubbish from around the house. I'm a firm believer in carrot and stick, but I'm much better at the carrot end of the equation. This time though I did a thing I've found impossible in the past and actually took some books down to the charity shop. They were all duplicates, so it wasn't too bad, but it was still a real wrench and felt like such a huge betrayal. I apologised to them all the way there. Still feeling a bit guilty.