Someone once told me that a true artist bleeds over his work. I believe I made a joke about stabbing oneself with a pen.
Karma is a bitch, and you never know how long it takes to catch up with you.
Working on the helmet yesterday, I cut my hand on a burr on a steel plate, wore a blister on my middle finger (which I did not notice until it burst), scraped my leg on the support for my anvil.
So I decided to paint instead. I cut my toe on the fridge while getting something to drink.
So I have officially bled over my work.
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