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October 3, 2001
Now I scratch my fuzzy head. It’s been over a week since I last raked a razor over it. That was before my lunch with Lori, but after the neighborhood barbecue. (You can tell who I care to look good for). I do it on an odd occasion to help cleanse my scalp. Otherwise, I’m hunched over in the bathroom. Head stuck in a garbage can and with electric clippers in my right hand.

I never feel more ridiculous.

At least no one can see me there. That’s my biggest fear. Getting caught doing something awkward and feeling incredibly stupid.