Tag Archives: whiskers

Whiskers In The Sink

I realize the title of my post today sounds a little bit like a country song.

Would it also sound like a country song if I were to write, “If he does it one more time, I’m gonna hog-tie him and drag him around behind my dented up Cougar” ?

I have mentioned my Rockstar’s grooming habits once before here, but that was strictly for amusement purposes only. This post is simply an inquisitive rant.

How can a man who is semi-anal about dust accumulating on things not be greatly disturbed by shaven whiskers accumulating in the bathroom sink?

Yes, my Rockstar fails to clean up after himself after bi- or tri-weekly shaving his facial bush. This is the man who comments on the left-over conditioner that hasn’t quite made it down the drain after I have emerged from my hour-long showers. While I have no issues with re-entering the bathroom and turning on the shower momentarily to rinse the tub, I am completely baffled that he seems to be completely unaware of his dead chin hairs that garnish the sink.

Is it because they come from him? Does his eyesight instinctively dis-observe his own body hair? It certainly seems so, since he has no problem mentioning the hairs of MY head that occassionally go uncleaned up in the sink. (For the record, my hairy messes only go unswept when I am late to somewhere.)

This is the man that can hardly stand to have the dirty dishes from yesterday still present today; The man who actually brings out the vacuum after having trimmed his toenails, (all men should do this, but feel that he is probably in the minority in this instance.) The man who comments on the messiness of my cooking when his trek to grab my ass while I’m baking is stopped short when he notices the flour I’ve spilled on the floor. (I am quite messy when cooking, but I always clean up after myself. Generally.) So what is it that he finds acceptable about his upper-lip hair ashes being spread across the bathroom counter?

I must point out that I’m not bitching. After all, I make a eyeshadow and face powder dusting daily thick enough to find fingerprints with. We have these handy little things present in the bathroom called Butt Wipes that with one or two swipes wipe away my makeup litter. Since he awakens earlier than I, it makes sense that I do my makeup and THEN clean up his and my daily facial messes. I just wonder if he notices the mess he makes, or if his Tidier-Than-Thou ego makes him completely blind to his own trangressions…



Filed under Beauty, Humor, Life, Love, Uncategorized