As has been my habit since the beginning of the pandemic, I gave myself a buzz this afternoon. I had been feeling a little fuzzy. Since it's chilly and will be even more so later this week, I decided that the "3" setting on my clippers was short enough for the back and sides, then finished up with a little free range, self-expressive scissor work on the top.
Towards the end of this period of manual snipping, I noticed that this cow-licky spot on the back of my head -- one that professionals have called out as a challenge -- looked a little bushy and figured I'd give it one more go with the clippers to see if I could bring it down a little. So I grabbed them, turned them on, and ran them over the area in question, only to see an implausibly large clump of hair drift downwards towards the bathroom floor. I gasped then looked at the clippers. I gasped again. There was no 3 attachment on them at all. No indeed. I had in fact run them bare backed over the back right of my head. When I looked in the mirror at the area, it looks somewhat like the head of someone in the early stages of recovering from chemo.
This, my friends, is where I am happy to be married, and happy that our large fundraiser is in the rearview, as indeed is pretty much all business development-related activity for fiscal 2023. I've got plenty of work to do in the next couple of weeks, but no sales. Yes, it is possible that my mom may notice and be vaguely scandalized at Christmas, but I doubt it. The light will be low and hair grows fast. Onwards.
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