Our pandemic isolation is ending. Our lax and lapsed grooming habits don’t know it yet.
I speak only for myself, of course. But you know it’s true.
At least I showered daily in isolation. Points for that.
But …
Shaving, an every-day event before the lockdown, occurred maybe once a week during Covid imprisonment.
Beard trimming, typically every other day, fell to once a week – if I felt a surge of hygienic industriousness. If not, count off 10 days, 14 days, even three weeks.
I haven’t combed my hair since March 2020. Bad hair, schmair hair. Who cared?
And deodorant. I hesitate here, because who of sound mind acknowledges abandoning deodorant. (Stop it! I am too of sound mind!)
But, yes, my deodorant ritual – swish left, swish right – died more than a year ago. The Classic Old Spice has shriveled. Its red tube shouts a rebuke each morning from atop the bathroom counter.
So, our isolation is ending.
Glory be. Hallelujah. Amen.
But deodorant? Must I really swish left, then right?
Yes, you say?
Golly gee. Helluva blah. Ah, crap.
