Life is livable again

The Texan stopped by the store on the way home from school for two very important items: a pack of toilet paper, and uber-sharp tweezers. The first one he got because, well, I'd think that would be self-explanatory, and the second one was because I'd left my trusty pair behind at J-Dawg's apartment in San Diego and I've been crawling up the walls ever since.

See, with my pasty skin and dark hair, every single incoming hair can be seen even before it's worked its way through all the layers of epidermis. So by the time I have an eyebrow hair that needs to be taken care of, I am poised and ready. Except when I misplace my tweezers, in which case I go batshit insane.

The Texan graciously offered me the tweezers from his shaving pack, which were nice in a pinch but overall not up to the long-term assignment of keeping my Mediterranean heritage from asserting itself all over my face.

This new pair, however, is more than ready. It's so sharp it kind of scares me a little. But all's right in my world and my eyebrows are, again, stubble-free.