It's Saturday and I'm still not growing the beard that I'm growing. That is, I'm not shaving. I started not shaving this past Monday, though technically I mean I stopped shaving on Monday (though I didn't; I actually stopped shaving the Friday before).
Right now, I resemble that guy with the cardboard sign that reads "Will Lick Your Leg for a Quarter." I sure hope that's not the look I'm going for (I hate change), but I don't have a plan or an endpoint on this. It's not like anyone is shooting a remake of Grizzly Adams (I've always blamed Dan Fogelberg for Thom Pace). I'm not out of razor blades, hot water or shaving cream. Ich hab im moment kein bock mehr and until I do, I could end up looking like Cousin It.
My wife has suggested except for the improvement, no one would notice the difference. I was going to suggest something connected with the famous four initials, (mit oder ohne ohren ist mir egal) but then I remembered it's her language and she wields it like a surgeon does a scalpel. Besides, I'm probably compensating for the top of my head where hair doesn't grow with a place on the bottom of my head where it does. Perhaps the ultimate combover? I guess while we're out shopping today, I could pick up some new hairbrushes.
I got new eyeglasses during the week. I wore out the old ones trying to see other people's points of view. Since I've had no luck teaching the seeing eye dog how to shift, figured the glasses were a good investment. They're a lot like, but not quite, the same style as my previous ones so there's been some slight squinting as folks speak to me and attempt to look closer because they sense something is different (not better) but aren't sure what. When your choices are give me some milk or else go home, it can make for a long weekend, especially if you're out of cereal.
My wife celebrates her birthday a week from today so perhaps I could shave as a present to her. Yeah, even as I typed that, my brain was swearing at my fingers, so that's a dog that won't hunt (no idea what that means, sounds rustic-all us mountain men do rustic real well). I should make an effort and get a real present (last year someone suggested, in light of the length of our relationship, I should get her a medal).
If you pass somebody in the next couple of days who looks like a dust bunny with a limp, feel free to say howdy. And keep your eye peeled for Sweeney Todd. That guy really creeps me out.