Incognito

I was at Smart & Final this morning, buying paper towels and a 25-lb. bag of salt for dyeing. As I was checking out, the guy behind me in line asked if I'm a painter. I wondered if I had suddenly become famous without realizing it, or possibly notorious. Is my picture on the front page of today's Los Angeles Times? Nope . . . no such luck. It was my shoes.



Evidently they're a dead giveaway to my profession, not that most people notice or say anything. Who was that masked man, anyway? And why didn't I think to give him my card?