I painted, only for a few minutes but those few minutes were so blissful that when I had to put it away, it was worse than tearing off a band-aid, it was more like saying goodbye to someone I love or like a my pet had died. As I squirted paint out of the tubes, my eyes got a little misty. I wanted time to stop time while I mixed the colors. And then I painted and I was, shall I say....enraptured. I hurt in the pit of my stomach because I don't know when I'll get to paint next. It seems forever away. I feel tortured like an addict. I am a painting addict, and I have no intention of recovering from this obsession. Okay, I know that my life is so full of fun, happy things right now, it's one party running into the next and I shouldn't be in mourning over lost studio time, but, sigh... I do love it so. "I miss you painting!"