I must write this quickly, because it is very important that I conclude my evening with some herbal tea, and it should be obvious that this is the case as you get to know me here. You know there needs to be a little reading, too.
Onward to Chapter 2 of Where the Crawdads Sing, and reading in moderation seems to be my strong suit. Unfortunately I’m not a Super-Reader who goes through all the new stuff voraciously, but I do try to sometimes keep up. Not destined to ever be in a Book Club, unless it is just a drinking wine club, in which case even then I need to keep it slow. Steady and slow.
My husband, on the other hand, is such a whiz kid that he does crossword puzzles and shit, plays Wordscapes and Sudoku, and fixes things that are broken, usually. Well, being Mr. Smart, he confronted the issue of having superlong eyebrows by using his electric razor to trim them up. Unfortunately he mis-gauged the trimming length apparatus, and pert nearly trimmed both of his eyebrows off entirely. This is funny now, and it could have been much worse, and frankly I’m glad that he doesn’t seem to appear to look like Baron Harkonnen from the Dune series.
The lesson of this day is that maybe it is better to not remember that one’s heart is broken and that there is no perfect hair-trimming apparatus, even when faced with the most unruly of grooming struggles. It’s hard to be mad at somebody trying so hard, especially when their heart and very face does make you smile. There is joy to be found in somebody with, like, no eyebrows who can laugh at himself. I can never get a good hiarcut my own self, just ask my husband, who hears my complaints.