March 29, 2020

How Was Your Saturday Night?

Oh, and what do we have here?

So, if you didn’t know and you live under a rock – hey some of us might right now – but season 3 of Ozark was released on Netflix Friday. So, naturally we had to binge watch. Five episodes Friday night and 5 episodes Saturday night. So, yes, the whole season. Because that’s what everybody does, right? Thought so.

Anyway, Saturday, as in last night, we were watching. I was sitting in my comfy TV watching chair and because we have been told not to touch our faces, I am constantly touching my face. Gah! Well, technically this was under my chin in the neck area. You know the area I am talking about. I know you do.

It felt weird. Like something was attached there. Something. Not sure exactly what yet. But I kept feeling for whatever it was. I would find it and then lose it and then find it again. Strange, I know.

Then, the light bulb. The realization. The what the fuck is that? – set in. It was a fucking whisker. A hair. Yes, a hair. That sounds better, right? Women don’t get whiskers, geez. So anyway, here I am freaking out about this whisker. LOL

I ran to the bathroom trying to find it in the mirror. Shit. I can’t see anything. I ran to get my readers. Back to the bathroom. Man, the light sucks in there. I couldn’t see anything. But I could feel it. I could feel that coarse, disgusting piece of hair sticking out of my neck.

In my best Ruth from Ozark voice – “John! Get your fucking ass in here and fucking help me find this fucking whisker in my neck?” Of course he came running. He’s such a good husband, so attentive to the needs of his wife. And of course, Ruth swears, A LOT. You really should be watching this series.

Now we are both in the bathroom. The tweezers are out. The readers are on. He’s looking. He keeps cranking my head to get in the light. He spots it. It’s white. Thank God. No black whiskers on this neck. He keeps cranking and now can’t find it. I look at him and start laughing. He looks like a nutty professor with his thick reading glasses and the tweezer in his hand. I can’t help it. And, on top of it, I have to pee like crazy, because I have been drinking a shit ton of water trying to flush out the chocolate chip cookies I decided to bake in the midst of this quarantine crap. And who was I kidding? If I bake them, I’m eating them. Duh. When will I realize that’s what people do. That’s what we all do. So now I know at least I can’t bake during crises. See, there’s the positive. So I avoid peeing my pants, but I can’t stop laughing. By now we are both laughing so hard, the tears are rolling. Okay, I told him. I’m good. I won’t laugh.

Back to the neck cranking. He told me to shut up. He does that sometimes. It’s not derogatory or anything. It’s what we do. We really do like each other. He found it again. He said he got it. I don’t think he got it. I can still feel it. “Shit,” he said. Now this time he tried to pluck it out with his fingers. Oh man that neck skin pinch felt awesome. NOT. We started laughing again. This time the tweezers came back into play. One more time. No laughing. For reals. I could feel the laughter bubbling up. I could feel my shoulders start moving. I could feel the tears in my eyes. I was dying. I couldn’t help it. Okay, again. Deep breath. Stillness. Here we go.

FINALLY – the whisker was released. It’s gone. For good. Whatever, I’m sure it will be back.