[Brenda Ellis]

Thank you, Patricia, for reviving this thread. I can relate!

But I guess right now I have it pretty good. I live alone. My apartment is small so there isn't that much to clean. (I have a yard with garden so that takes work but that is another love of mine). I have two cats, but cats are good because you don't have to walk them.
I just broke up with my long term relationship a couple of days ago. (It was my idea) and I couldn't be happier that, now, instead of having to sit around with him and try to think of things to do together, I can just paint or draw to my heart's content. No one can say, "You don't pay enough attention to me." Cats and laundry can't talk.

When I'm on my death bed, I doubt that I will think to myself, "gee, I should have mopped the kitchen floor more often." At least I hope my regrets will be grander than that!

I think women have it harder because, even in this day of gender equality, we still have to clean and cook and raise the kids, even though we are now also "free" to go out and work 40 hours a week!

My son is grown and living in another state. All my relatives are in another state, so I don't have to worry about that.
I have an active social life, but I can still have plenty of time during the week at nights to paint.
A solitary life gives one plenty of time to do what one likes.

The downside is sometimes I feel like I'm alone too much. I think we do have to balance all the aspects of our lives. And I have to enjoy what I'm doing and learning now with portraiture and let the future take care of itself. I feel the clock ticking too (we've shared about this before.) But I can't slow down time and I can't speed up my process. I have to accept both of those things if I want some sanity.

So if I get another partner, or a dog, I'll have less time to paint, but there are many aspects of me that need to be nurtured and fed. We have a theory in my day job: A person has to go away from their work to get more resources to come back and give to their work. If I spent every minute at the easel, I would not become a great artist, I would become a wreck. I have to be out and about seeing things and people and light and nature in order to put something on the canvas anyway.

I'm always looking and trying to see. I'm always responding to colors and shapes of things. I'm an artist no matter what I'm doing.

I bet, Patricia, that you wouldn't trade places with me for anything. When I'm on my deathbed, I probably will know how important family and relationships were. Maybe more important than painting.