I should be ashamed of this. I really should. But, no one ever had a better laugh about aging than me. Especially when it’s over such a harmless thing. My People, I am here to tell you that I have ANOTHER Crazy Hair. What’s that? You don’t remember the original Crazy Hair? You go refresh your memory right now! I’ll wait.
OK. You’re back. Yes, I still have the original Crazy Hair. Yes, I still torture Tony with it. He’ll be holding hands with me while we’re driving down the road and pretty soon, I’ve managed to stealthily move his hand so it’s scarily within proximity of the Crazy Hair. His horrified response is well worth the day or so that he needs to recuperate from that fun!
Now, though, I have another one. I was looking in my 10x magnifying mirror the other day. The kind of mirror I strongly recommend against having in your house, because you will find all sorts of horrifying things on your face that you would have been better off not knowing about. Like, for example, a black hair that sprouted seemingly out of nowhere along my
strongly chiseled slightly sagging, aging jawline. I noticed it a couple months ago, and like any good person who’s in denial of the aging process, I plucked that sucker right out of there. It kind of stung when I did it, actually, so, I figured I was successful in removing its established roots. That theory didn’t work so well. It showed up again a couple weeks later. Plucked. Grew. Plucked. Grew. Of course it did. I’m getting old! That means my ears and nose are getting bigger and I’m growing stiff (ha ha, stiff), I mean, COARSE, black hair in random places!
I’m debating the best way to work this new Crazy Hair into my marital scaring routine. I mean, we have the original Crazy Hair. We have the faux air humping routine. Now I have this? Could our married life possibly get anymore adventurous??