Alongside the days dinginess, was my long unshaven head. Usually I try to keep it reasonably clean shaven, because if I don't, I have to wear a hair net at work...
Yes, if I have stubble, I need to wear a hair net...
So, as I headed out of the kitchen, in the general direction of the shower, my Wonderful Wife gave me " the look" and told me that if I was shaving my head, I should be careful...
I have ridden icebergs in whitewater. I have jumped out of trees with a tarp tied to my wrists and ankles, attempting flight. I have tried jumping ravines with my bicycle, feeling an irrational security from the fact I could probably make it halfway across...
And she reminds me to be careful, shaving my head...
The sad point is, there is good reason for such concern...
Kind of...
A few months earlier I was a bit aggressive in my attempt to not leave a little mustache of hair in the fold, in the back of my neck.
If you have sat behind me in Church, you know what I'm talking about. At work, it's a running joke, I never am able to get that bit, left in the " neck fold".
So with a new razor, a strong wrist and more determination than common sense, I began smoothly, using the tips of my fingers to detect any follicles missed.
I don't know why, but I could not get everything. Being the proverbial bull in a china closet, I used the rationale that I was not using enough force on the razor.
Mistaken, I was...
The blood did not stop like it used to...
Generally, if I open up my skin with a sharp implement, by mistake, I grab a tube of superglue and take care of it. I have a tube in every tool box I own, in my car and multiple tubes hidden thruout my workplace...
About seventeen years ago, I put a three inch gash on my wrist, changing all five three foot dasher blades in an ice cream making barrel. It was a two man job and I was short the other dude, but it had to get done.
So it got done and I left the production floor, covering my cut with a red shop rag. I went down to my box and trusty super tube, and self repaired...
My Wonderful Wife will not let me keep superglue in my side of the medicine cabinet for accidental gashes. She seems to think that significant injuries should be attended by a physician, not a bumpkin with dollar store Krazy glue five packs...
So I came downstairs that day like nothing was wrong and that a blood dripping toilet paper pad was the new normal...
MaryAnne did not really buy that.
Eventually, she band aided me up, all the while wearing an unbelieving, quizzical look...
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