I am still working on my 100 paintings project. In spite of disruptions, I’ve managed to complete 71. I was painting in my studio only, but have moved a paint palette back home to paint when my son borrows my car. I don’t fancy having what amounts to a two hour bus commute to the maker-space rather than the 10 minute drive I do now.

The city in its infinite wisdom had “streamlined,” “improved” the bus service. The buses still run frequently, but I’d have to take at minimum two buses by going in the wrong direction — first up to the Capitol Square to transfer to the bus that will eventually drop me off near the shop or, walk in one direction to catch one bus that will go up 2 miles, where I’d need to catch another bus to meet up with a third bus to loop around eventually go within walking distance to the shop.

The maker-space is in negotiations with our new landlords about adding on to our space by renting the seasonally-used suite next to us. They’re willing to do that but want to increase our rent by almost 40% per square foot for the total square footage. We’re the only permanent tenants with two companies renting seasonal storage to either side of us. The new area we wish to move into is used for seasonal storage of rental bicycles.

In addition, we’re losing our parking lot out front. It was actually sold by the previous owners to a developer who will be putting housing there. The city is losing its character. All the new housing built recently, and still being built is boring. They all look like stacks of freight containers with balconies. There’s no play spaces for kids because the buildings are built over parking ramps with token green space. Very dystopian looking.

Unfortunately, tomorrow I will not be going to the protest. I anticipate that there will be agitators there to start violence — not the folks protesting but plants to start a riot of some sort. I have a thing inside my skull that could become an aneurism if I’m struck just right. Otherwise, I’d be right there up front.

Remember, if we wanted a king, we’d still be British. Many writers in the ‘40’s and ‘50’s warned us that this would happen, but we didn’t really believe that those fictional stories would become reality.