RIP Harold

So.

I have a fabulous studio space that I absolutely adore. However, over the past few weeks I haven't spent much time here, as I've been in Europe and Hawaii (poor me, I know). STILL, before I left on my adventures I was in school and spending approximately 24 hours per day here and I met an adorable little mouse dubbed by me and my studio friends as "Harold." Upon my return, I found a RUDE note about mousetraps and blah blah blah. I have never had a particularly warm friendship with the people in the offices near my studio (though 3rd floor, I ADORE YOU!) and this was kind of the last straw.

I mean... HAROLD!!! He's one little mouse. I hate my studio mates, and I plan on making him his own home here. I love all animals, and I refuse to discriminate against this little gray furball, despite the fact that he eats holes in my canvases. Minor details.

However, I do wonder what the "maintenance" team thought about my workspace when they came to set their "mousetraps" in my space. Did they pause at the wine bottle on my window sill? Did they laugh at the plethora of images and messages on my wall? Did they shake their heads in disgust at the immaturity of which I run my life? As if I fuckin' care.

So, studio-mates, 3rd floor friends, and stalkers, I plan on keeping this studio as long as I can gaze out into the night, chainsmoke alone and practice my piano-playing, and I hope to drive out the person who is trying to drive me out. Have you met me? Good luck.