A builder is downstairs, building.
I am upstairs, painting puppets for the sleeve of my forthcoming album. I have averted disasters: not putting a screw-eye in the tops of their heads for strings (I did it very gently even though they are dry now), and losing the indigo paper (found it under some pillows).
I'm just waiting for jewellers jump-rings in the post, to join their heads and limbs to their bodies. I'll varnish them before that to fix the paint, then I'll make their stage.
Margaux is remarkably jealous. I thought she'd be delighted to have playmates.
I was going to finish the editing and mixing today but I woke up too early and have tinnitis. That can be tomorrow's job.
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