So it's the night before the show and my house is no longer a home but rather a gallery. All of my furniture is packed away into my bedroom. All evidence of my existence is tucked tightly away. Its quite odd to be responsible for others peoples art. Hanging on my walls under my watchful eye, they wait. You can really look at peoples art when your alone with it. You see things that you wouldn't have if they were around. You feel guilty, as if your doing something you shouldn't do, even though their hanging there to be looked at. However, tonight I'll be staring deep into the eyes of my own piece. With over $50 worth of embroidery floss, buckets of nails, a 3 dollar hammer, some old fashioned elbow grease and plenty of caffeine I think I can survive the next 24 hours.