After finally breaking down and purchasing a brand-spanking-new box of plain, sad, boring little bandaids, I've retuned to my finger-sacrificing hobby. I have tentatively finished three cuts (full pictures on blocks, not yet printed). So, tonight I decided to open up an actual bottle of ink for the first time and make a proof print (like a test print; you use crap paper instead of the good stuff. It shows you where further work is needed on the cuts). I was very careful. I got out newspaper to cover the floor. I took off all my rings, and tied back my hair. I changed into my hair-dye pants. It should have been quick, clean and easy.
Unforeseen obstacle to the quick, clean and easy plan: Buzz, the idiot freak-cat.
Picture the peaceful tableaux; a girl in neat pigtails leans over a beautiful art-nouveau inspired nameplate design, rolling black, sticky ink, in a quiet, neat manner.
Now, interrupt that tranquility with the dive-bombing out-of-nowhere mania of Buzz, the Godzilla/feline fiend! Claws extended, ears all kitten-perky, he attacks!..In the middle of a puddle of ink.
Here's an obvious statement, readers: kitten + printing ink...No good can come of this. And trust me, none did.
I suppose this could have been, all told, a minor problem, except for the fact that I (and I admit my mistake here, though I do so begging your understanding for my surprised and upset state of mind at that moment, which caused my reaction) screamed at the top of my lungs, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU LITTLE MORON?!"
Which had the all-too-predictable effect of sending poor, inky Buzz TEARING ALL OVER MY ROOM!
After a ridiculous chase around said room, which should by all rights have been accompanied by some snazzy pursuit-music (preferably featuring the all-too-unappreciated banjo), a messy pigtailed, inky handed Me carried, by the scruff of his evil little neck (which might just have been the only clean piece of him), an understandably disgruntled Buzz to the bathroom, got him even more disgruntled by shoving him under the faucet and giving him a good dousing, and then threw him back into Krista's apartment.
Alone, peace restored, I returned to my room, tidied, fixed my pigtails...and watched tv for an hour. Printing suddenly seemed not-so-worth it. And kind of...tame.
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1 comment:
No need for the apology, m'friend, the funny mental picture was exactly what I was going for. Hey, if you can't laugh aat yourself, you have no right to laugh at all. And the print...is getting there.
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