Ear hair et al.
My wife and me went on our first date ten years ago this week. Thai food. Ten years goes by pretty quick.
This morning I woke up at 5am and primed my day by watching an hour of Doc McStuffins with the four year old.
How the mighty have fallen.
A far cry from the glory days when me and the missus deciding on a whim to go watch Mötley Crüe at Madison Square gardens. A hop, skip and a jump at 8,000 miles.
Not that I would trade places with Joey of old. Although… that previous version of me was still quite lean and sprightly… with disposable income, attributes I do miss…
… although with about the same number of follicles on my cranium that I have now. Eh… I did however pluck an errant hair sprouting from my ear last week. It was… traumatic. Like some watershed, Rubicon moment. A prominent milestone that proclaimed unto the world that I was getting on in years.
Okay… there was a brief moment when I thought about letting grow… and then I could twirl it between thumb and forefinger while I sat ruminating the mechanics of the universe.
But then I banished the thought and yanked that sucker. ‘Holy cow, check out the root on this thing’.
The consort was however not impressed with my attempts at ‘show and tell’.
After ten years they are less amused by your eccentricities.
At least this is what I tell myself.