Dear Diary,

A lot has changed since I last wrote. The next day, I found out there’s a park near my lot (calling it a “house” seems wildly optimistic) with grills! Actual grills! There are bathrooms too, which made me feel silly for paying for that toilet and shower I can only use in the dead of night when no one is around, but I was too optimistic about one day having walls to sell them, even if I really did need the cash. Even the all-beef hot dogs I bought felt like a luxury splurge compared to cereal and PB&J.

I’ve been painting every chance I get, and selling every painting I make. I’d like to keep a few one day, but right now I just can’t afford it. I managed to buy a new easel, which was a big enough deal as it was.

I might also have bought a few upgrades.

I know, I know, I should be saving for walls, and maybe a roof. That bed, though, it was awful! I woke up every morning almost too sore to lift my paintbrush. It had to go. It just did.

Also, as much as I like grilled hot dogs, it’s been nice to have other meals on occasion too. And all of this is an investment, really. Eventually I’ll have walls and rooms and doors. How can I decide where to put them if I don’t have the stuff to know how much space I need? I’m being practical.

Yes. Practical.

Really.