My Traveling Whiskers

My wife is good at travel packing. I know that to be a fact, and waited until she could help me with the details.

“How many pair of underwear, do you need until the first washing machine is reached?”

“How many cans of dog food does Wonder Dog need to keep him satisfied?”

“How much room in the suitcase are you planning on saving for when you buy me presents in the USA?”

Even toiletries were looked at. Razors, toothbrush, sun cream, after sun cream, etc.

The problem being that of razors!

I have conveniently forgotten to shave on this trip, so far anyway. This Summer, when I took a week off from work it was the same story. My wife seemed to accept that without question, right up until we had to go to a family event. “Shouldn’t you be shaving, before we go?” Yes, Dear. End of Whiskers.

My wife is not accompanying me on this trip, and the most obvious result of that are my Traveling Whiskers. My family don’t seem to mind them, and they don’t shed on the carpet of my Sister’s house.

Whiskers are a funny thing though. They seem to have a mind of their own, going which ever way they please, no matter how many times, I’ve tried to show them the correct way. They are also rather grayish, but that was to be expected, seeing as how the California Sun has been relentless in its heat upon my less than conditioned Scandinavian Body.

I’ve even tried to hide them while video conferencing with my wife. In the beginning of the trip, she asked me: “Haven’t you shaved, yet?” which showed me how far her influence really reached. “Of course I was going to, or was I?” It didn’t really matter as she was concentrating on other things, and I was telling her of my journey so far.

I’ve considered doing the right thing by her and cutting them off, but I have grown rather fond of them in a rebellious way. I don’t even notice them until they start to itch, or when I have the feeling that something is residing on my face, that normally is not there. I’ve also developed the habit of running my hand over them, gathering them in a way that says, “Don’t worry boys, we’re all in this together!”

When I return home to Denmark, after have visited my home in the USA, there probably will be a moment of reckoning. There will be some kind of Ultimatum, or harassment of such a humiliating degree that one of us will have to part company with the other. I don’t want to ruin their fun though, until the final moment comes. They seem to be doing well, existing in their sublime bliss, not knowing what tomorrow will bring.

Just like the rest of us travelers…….



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