In the midst of the all of the packing, unpacking, and repacking I have done recently, I managed to leave my razor at home when I traveled to Boston yesterday. I noticed when I unpacked my shower bag this morning (I use multiple Ziploc bags to organize myself because I am lazy and tres classy) and apparently there is a yeti somewhere in my family tree because I needed to shave my legs in a very bad way. Obviously I wore pants today.
But this place that I'm staying? It's pretty far from, well, everything and we're basically sequestered here. And, because of the summer heat? I only have one pair of pants on hand. The front desk has a ridiculous amount of sundries behind it* so I asked. I asked the totally adorable (and probably single) guy behind the front desk if they had a razor, and he handed over two. I feel a little insulted by the fact that he assumed I was so hairy I needed not one, but two razors, because why am I not giving off the air of being the delicate, non-hairy flower that I am or at least try really hard to pretend to be?
Anyway. The razors. Guys, I'm a little scared.
There's no curiously viscous green stuff that leaves a trail on your legs of what is most likely elf snot. There are no little rubber guards meant to idiot proof the sharp parts so I can retain as much skin as possible and spare myself of the indignity of cutting myself and not knowing it until soapy water seeps into the nick and starts burning/stinging/annoying the heck out of me and I subsequently start hobbling around trying to move that portion of leg out of the way because of the burning and have to contort myself so that not only is it out of the stream of water, but also so no water runs down the leg. There are no special rubber grips on the handle to keep the sharp object firmly placed in my hand so it doesn't get slippery and fly out of my hand at some inconvenient point and accidentally shave off an eyebrow. There's only one blade! I'll have to get all of the hair in one swipe because it won't have the backup blades right there to pick up the slack. Sure I've been shaving for nearly seventeen years but that doesn't mean I'm even remotely good at it. You see, even with all of the niceties of the Venus, Venus Breeze, Shick Intuition, and various other razors over the years, I still manage to hurt myself on a regular basis, or at the very least, forget to shave a large portion of one calf.
Clearly my complaining about the quality of a free razor I needed as a result of my own incompetancy is a lovely little first world problem, but what I'm trying to say is: if I happen to bleed to death in the shower tomorrow, now you know why.
*Yes, the front desk seems to have EVERYTHING back there. I'm keeping a running list of things I plan to ask for over the next couple of days to entertain myself. Items include, but are in no way limited to: a BumpIt, a frying pan and Chuch Norris.
