The day is going to get even better.
I was getting scruffy again, so headed to the bathroom with my shaver thingy in hand. I’ve used it twice before, and both times it wasn’t so much cutting hair as ripping it out. I stopped the first time once someone told me I was bleeding. I set to, taking breaks from the plucking to slap at the mosquitoes dancing around my apparently delicious ankles.
The buzzer was plucking away as usual, then suddenly got louder and the ripping got even worse, if that’s possible. I turned it off and could feel that something had come loose inside. The thing broke on it’s third use. I know I shouldn’t expect much from the Walgreens $8 shaver, but that was the worst machine I have ever dealt with. It is now resting peacefully in the garbage bin outside my door, on top of the two expensive apples I bought yesterday that turned into ant-infested brown mush within a few hours.
Did I mention the shaver crapped out halfway through? So I got to walk across town, face half shorn, clumps of ragged face fuzz scattered across abused skin. I found it hard to look up from my feet for some reason. That was fun.
I bought some plastic thingy whose advertising wants to convince me it’s a jet engine, stumped back to the hostel and straight into the bathroom where I returned to babyfaced smoothness with delightful speed. Feels kinda weird though, this is the first time I’ve been completely clean shaven in…I dunno. Years? What did I do in Nepal? Can’t remember.
But it’s been long enough that I am pretty sure my chin is a fish belly white under my Central American sun-grilled cheeks. Not so much a tan line as a tan zone.
But now I’m sitting down to breakfast and the day is going to get better. Oscar, the friendly majordomo fella who runs the hostel just set my plate on the table and peered at my face, but maybe it wasn’t so much perplexed as…um…admiring. Yeah, let’s go with that.