take it off, take it all off
Whimsy struck this morning as I looked in the mirror for yet another go with the blade and whiskers and I sez to myself I sez, "Hey. Get an electric razor."
I've been lathering up since my teenage years with only sporadic use of an electric here and there -- an old one my father handed down, that kind that Santa Claus rides on, and one that came to me by default after my grandfather's death by electrocution. Hey, wait a minute...
So, unshaven and full of hope at the prospect of a new Norelco or Braun or Remington or Craftsman or Boeing or whoever is making them these days, I hopped in the car and headed for the mall.
On the leisurely drive, I harkened back to the past. It seemed like only yesterday that my face was stubble-free. Cool and smooth, my manly cheeks would embrace the breeze through the open driver's-side window. But that was long ago. I am a different man today, rough, with that look of windblown unpredictability that only a hairy man can pull off.
The first department store I went to had its stock of e-razors in a display case at the bottom of the escalator down to housewares. The best ones, those pricey rechargeable German ones with LED's for on-the-go battery-reading types like myself, were sold out. Aha! A good sign. My intuition serves me well as this is clear evidence that only the best beards seek out these models. Unfortunately for me, the best beards are also the early beards, and the rest of this display case is littered with cheap also-rans that surely must chafe and maul.
I decided to stick to my old blade and lather ways until the next shipment comes in. I asked a clerk when one might expect the next barge of golden booty to float up to their loading dock and he looked at me queerly, until I just said "When's the next truck coming?" and he told me he didn't know. Sly, these devils, taunting our urges, making the hairs in our noses stand up in anticipation of a brand new Megashear 2000 with Ultraglide snippers and deluxe iridium-alloy trimhead. Undaunted by his feigned ignorance, I opted not to put one on order as he suggested, but rather to do nothing until the time is right, l'instant decisif, when the planets and my charge account are properly aligned. Another victory for the discriminating consumer.
I walked one circuit of the mall after that, did some window-yearning at the camera shop, and checked out the progress of the new yet-to-open stores (at last! Bulk nuts!). It seemed to be a dull day for everyone. I followed a newspaper photographer there for a while, and even he had a tough time finding subjects. He did get a few shots of a baby-photo set-up in the middle of the mall where you can have pictures taken of your baby wearing angel wings against a background of blue sky and puffy white clouds, (does that say dead baby, or is it just me?). You know it's a slow day when photojournalists are shooting baby photographers at the mall.
So I'm sorry kids, the morning was a failure.
Gotta shave now.
"Shave And A Haircut" -- Biff Throckmorton -- TRADITIONAL INCA WEDDING SONGS
Wisdom of the Day:
"Men should not care too much for good looks; neglect is becoming."
- Ovid, Ars amatoria