I was two thirds through the painting, when it occurred to me that my scanner cannot handle subtle blue.

Doubtless that is why I did the whole thing in a subtle blue scheme.

I don’t know whether to chalk that up to being absent-minded, or what. Is it masochism? Does my brain secretly want to sneak off and join a flagellant order? (Tiny bands of brains in backless robes, roaming the countryside, chanting, occasionally whipping themselves. The end times are near. Repent! Repent for the sins of the brains!) Or is it another expression of that optimism that grows perennially at the bottom of my soul–sure, the last FIFTY times the scanner ate blue, but maybe this time…?

It’s a hardy weed, that optimism. It’s rarely watered, badly gnawed by the Rabbits of Generalized Despair, and occasionally, for no apparent reason, large rocks fall on it from out of the sky. And yet, it continues to grow, a tiny green thing sending out runners, wearing a jaunty little hat on top of its stem, and generally irritating the living daylights out’ve everything around it.

I will go back to trying to flood it out with coffee, while secretly hoping that this time it’s right about the scanner.