People have many complaints about getting on in years. In most regards, the Old Amigo gets along pretty well, thank you very much. Yesterday involved several hours of fence building. Today was weight lifting and 30 minutes on the cross trainer. Friday night I taught a yoga class at the gym. It's just not too bad.
Except for nose hair. Gray nose hair is the worst, because it catches the light and looks to other folks like you've got something you should take care of hanging out in a nostril. But even darker nose hair is a problem. See, for some reason, the interior nostril follicles have gotten powerful with age. The hairs are thick, strong, and (especially) long.
They tickle at night and disturb one's rest. If left untrimmed, they'll extend right out there into space and mingle with mustache whiskers. It is not easy to be cool when one has long nostril hairs waving in the breeze. It disturbs concentration. You get the picture.
So the venerable Friendly One has taken to trimming them. Oh, occasionally, one will be plucked out in a fit of pique, but most times a weekly trim will keep things tidy.
Last night the Amigo's dreams were disturbed by Visions of Nose Hairs. I had surreptitiously pulled a hair -- from my left nostril, I think -- and was appalled to find that it was a foot or more in length. The person with whom I was speaking was aghast. I tried to explain, but there I was holding what quickly grew to become a wad of nose hair.
When we are young we often dream of going to class and forgetting an important article of clothing. That rarely happens anymore.
Now the Amigo dreams of hirsute nostrils.
Sheesh.
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Musings about career transitions, life at the edge of the continent, and animals. And anything else I think about sharing.
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1 comment:
I can't believe you actually blogged about this but - be glad you're not as tall as I am. The problem is worse when people have to look up (physically at least) to you...
D.
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