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Tom Hudson

I wrote before about my genius for getting oil paint on my clothing–much to the chagrin of my long-suffering wife. It’s almost always red paint, usually cadmiums–heavy metal paint. I arrange my palette with the warm colors, reds and yellows, nearest to me.  So when I drag a shirt sleeve through the paint, as I did once again this morning, it’s usually one of the reds. When this happens, my sleeve magically succeeds in painting every nearby surface and article of clothing before I discover the accident.

Yes, I have a collection of paint-shamed clothing that’s been relegated to ‘studio togs,’ but sometimes I just grab the nearest shirt before entering the studio. This is especially prone to happen early in the morning. I took-off the newly-ruined shirt and donned a ‘studio tog shirt’–one previously smeared with red paint and with the sleeves cut off. Dressed this way–old, ragged, paint splattered clothes–makes me look like a bum.  My neighbors cross the street to avoid me when I’m in my ‘studio togs.’

I haven’t worked up the courage to tell my wife about this latest incident. Wish me luck.

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