The state I am in: hygiene
Last night I had a dream in which I did something terrible, something I knew I'd regret the moment I'd done it. When I woke up this morning and remembered the dream I felt a kind of relief that can only be described as nothing less than ascension of the soul itself.
In the dream, I had shaved my face.
The reason this is a problem is that I've invented for myself a ridiculous "no cutting" policy--I'm fairly certain the idea came about completely as a joke, on the spot, told someone, thought it would be a funny thing to say, and then decided to run with it. I haven't shaved my face or cut my hair since the beginning of the year and I'm going to try to do neither until 2008. I'll probably fail. The reason I felt such terror--followed by that soul-lifting relief--is that I spent probably no less than a solid half hour last night at Three Kings Tavern going on about my ridiculous "no cutting" policy to Melina and Lauren (who were also privy to my spiel about how I'm done with shoelaces; after twenty-two years of tying my shoes or having them tied for me I just don't think I want to do it anymore; it's slip-on or bust for the foreseeable future). The two were quite good about listening to my insane jabbering, but now I feel like I've really boasted about this thing and have to keep going with it.
The part about how I no longer use shampoo or, at least for this season, deodorant, is something I covered with them last night too but I'm hesitant to talk about it here because without a proper explanation it just sounds as if I'm consciously deciding to be a more physically unhygienic person. And that would be totally incorrect.
Totally incorrect.
In the dream, I had shaved my face.
The reason this is a problem is that I've invented for myself a ridiculous "no cutting" policy--I'm fairly certain the idea came about completely as a joke, on the spot, told someone, thought it would be a funny thing to say, and then decided to run with it. I haven't shaved my face or cut my hair since the beginning of the year and I'm going to try to do neither until 2008. I'll probably fail. The reason I felt such terror--followed by that soul-lifting relief--is that I spent probably no less than a solid half hour last night at Three Kings Tavern going on about my ridiculous "no cutting" policy to Melina and Lauren (who were also privy to my spiel about how I'm done with shoelaces; after twenty-two years of tying my shoes or having them tied for me I just don't think I want to do it anymore; it's slip-on or bust for the foreseeable future). The two were quite good about listening to my insane jabbering, but now I feel like I've really boasted about this thing and have to keep going with it.
The part about how I no longer use shampoo or, at least for this season, deodorant, is something I covered with them last night too but I'm hesitant to talk about it here because without a proper explanation it just sounds as if I'm consciously deciding to be a more physically unhygienic person. And that would be totally incorrect.
Totally incorrect.