I don’t just watch art classes—I investigate them. If you’ve ever wondered who’s pausing a tutorial 87 times to identify a mystery purple pencil, it’s me. My desk looks like a paint-splattered crime scene, and brown craft paper is both my notepad and my witness protection program.

The sky’s falling, the Amazon boxes are winning, and I’m hanging on by a thread of sarcasm. Another Disorderly Studio day — part storm, part meltdown, all mood.