Hello to the year Twenty-Ten - now where the balls is my flying car?!? Since The Future has failed to live up to the science fantasy promises it made me in my youth, I have decided to regress to a simpler age, eschewing technological advances and embraces the culture of days gone by. At least insofar as my grooming habits, that is.Ever since reading a post on How to Shave Like Your Grandpa, I have been coveting an old fashioned safety razor and shave kit. And come Christmas, Heidi delivered, gifting me a Merkur razor, badger-haired (!) brush, Col. Conk soap, and possibly the most charming shave cup ever (though according to my dad, my own great-grandfather had a shave cup with a terrier on it; this is an heirloom I desire.)
Of course, it is taking some getting used to. I have already acquired a fair share of battle scars, but fortunately among the gift package was a styptic pencil, a thing I've not made so much use of since I first started down the path of beard removal a decade and a half ago.
Still, a few nicks are a handy trade for the satisfaction and just pure fun that comes from the whole process of hot towel, lathering, and loading up that single razor blade. I haven't had this much fun in my morning ritual since ... well ever. It's the new best part of waking up!
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