I've been talking about it for a while, and finally today I pulled out a sheet of watercolor paper, got out my palette, wet my brushes, squeezed out paint and did a watercolor painting. But first, I had to throw out my sponge. I've had this sponge since I bought it to fulfill the supplies list for my first ever watercolor class with Eric Wiegardt in 2005. I've dragged it with me on many trips, dropped it in the dirt, in the sand, on the grass, in a parking lot, and in a puddle. I've cleaned it with bleach I don't know how many times. It has seen better days. And it used to be smell-free. No more.
It's silly, I guess, to feel pangs of loss over a bit of cellulose. Maybe so. Just call me silly. Today.
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