Sunday

Useless, wasted day. But it was necessary.

I've drunk enough booze in the past ten days where I looked in the mirror last night and decided that I look like hell. Don't be alarmed, it was happy booze, not spiraling-downward booze. Chrismas parties, more Christmas parties, some fool buying, dear friends leaving, Lord's a-Leaping; all grounds for celebration.

My secret weapon in looking like hell is my crappy beard. It's not that I'm hating on myself. I'm in that time of life where each sector of my beard is like the U.S. voting map depicting a range from red to blue preferences. The Washington / Maine portion of my facial hair are classic silver, great action on those sideburns. But the deep south, my chin, is kinda blonde and black. The mid-west and mid-east of my beard are as varied as our colorful, fractious country.

So what I'm saying is that I haven't shaved since Friday (yes, what a surprise) so my beard tends to amplify any hint of splotchiness caused by excessive boozing. It's quite a trick. I can age five or ten years if I don't shave and don't get enough sleep. By God if on top of that, I don't moisturize, I look like a thirsty bum. It's kind of cool.

None of this is what I wanted to write about. There are certainly issues of substance to address. My beard, in its mediocrity, has encompassed them all. In some lame attempt to compare: my problems, just like my beard, respond to being scraped away on a daily basis. But if I let my problems grow out for a day or two, I have a patchy soul that requires a nice lavender oil.

Let me reiterate: lavender oil will help keep your soul from becoming irritated while shaving. That's the best I can do today.