While poking around in my embarrassingly over-stuffed garage, I came across a box of greeting card stock and envelopes left over from a unprofitable but fun business venture from long ago.

Still digging through the hoarders-buried-alive-sized pile of junk where my car should be parked, I also unearthed a forgotten watercolor paint kit that I’d given my husband for his birthday.

I decided to spend my first full day of quarantine, an appropriately dark and rainy Saturday, doing something creative.

Some of the tiny tempera paints had dried hard in their tubes but could be resurrected by cutting the tube in half and poking a wet brush inside.

It felt good just to play, and it was a nice distraction from the worrying about keeping family members safe, running out of toilet paper, and planning meals with the weird ingredients I managed to find during my last outing to the market.

One hour turned into four as I dolloped the cards with water and paint. The more water I splashed around, the better my fumbling efforts looked. The colors spread and merged and began to look quite artsy. During a break, I watched a few YouTube videos on watercolor techniques and wound up using small pieces of card instead of my brush to paint flowers and stems.

I think what made this exercise so satisfying and more than a little addictive was the lack of pressure to be perfect. Plus the fact that this was a no-cost activity resulting in a bunch of rather gorgeous handmade greeting cards that would usually set me back anywhere between six and ten dollars a pop.

I’ve decided to hunt around for some other abandoned craft projects in my pyramid of procrastination. Maybe I’ll even face clearing the darn thing out before this quarantine is over. I have a feeling there’ll be plenty of time.