... and being distracted by the hairs on my ears
Part One: The Book
It's been a while since I last did it — stay up half the night reading. I was up until four the other night finishing Elizabeth George's With No One As Witness. Just before midnight I realized that I was in trouble. With only 200 or so pages to go, I figured that if I were to keep reading I would soon be inexorably hooked and would necessarily be up until all hours needing to finish it. Since I wasn't yet terribly tried and ready to pack in it for the night, I opted to keep plodding, and, of course, that led to a long night.
At around 1:30 in the wee hours, I found myself with only 100 pages or so left. Should I keep going or not? Well, at that point, it really wasn't much of a question. So it was that it wasn't until several hours later that I was sufficiently sated to haul my bod into bed.
Part 2: The Ears
So what's up with the ear thing? I don't know why, but I fidget with my ears when I'm reading. I probably wouldn't do this if they weren't hairy, but they are ... hairy, I mean.
Somewhere around my fortieth birthday, when most of my top hair was gone, the creator
added insult to injury compensated me by gifting me with ear hair. I am given to understand that I am not alone in this, that it happens to many middle-age men, but I'm not totally sure because, quite frankly, it's not exactly what guys talk about. Can you seriously imagine guys drinking beer, munching pizza, watching football and discussing ear hair?
I attend fairly vigilantly to these annoying little earmcthingies. When I'm reading and discover one of these blighters lurking on the outer curve of my ear, I will attempt to uproot him with my fingernails, and/or I will get up every now and then to find Cuppa's tweezers and really take care of the interlopers. Sometimes I go as far as to shave my ears, and every now and then, when I really am exasperated, I ask Cuppa to do a very through tweezing.
To add further insult, the Creator has also caused hairs to grow inside my nose. Ungrateful wretch that I am, this displeases me even further. I mean, really now, nose hair brings absolutely no comfort for the stereotypically bald man. "Oh yeah, tease me about my baldness, but have a look up my nose. Hah!" As if.
I can't be the only one experiencing this silliness. You see, I have purchased a mass-manufactured nose trimmer. It's not exactly like the one in the photo but close enough. Can you believe it? All sorts of men are out there buying all sorts of varieties of nose trimmers. I know that it sounds silly, but believe you me, one simply doesn't want to use tweezers on nose hair. It smarts. I know.