Sincere apologies for the lack of blogging for, oh, two months or so. There’s a problem in having a craft-focused blog: if there’s no crafting, there’s not much to blog about. And in the two months since my last post, there has been no time for crafting, to say the least. Much of note has happened: there’s been intense family strife, a pack-up-and-move to a new home, a bridal shower, a stagette, crazy long work hours, freelance work, unpacking, painting, hardwood floor shopping, attempts to fix a leaky tap, a paralyzing back ailment, a sad cat, hockey playoffs, and on and on.
But tonight a discovery was made. A discovery too important to escape chronicling here.
The photo you see above is of what I believe to be a “date kit” found in my own closet tonight, belonging to my husband of one and a half years, Chadwick. As these things always begin, I was innocently trying to create some space in our new bedroom closet. I came across Chad’s “toiletry bag” (eeew…so icky when referring to a man’s stuff) and thought that perhaps I’d move it to the bathroom, and what the heck is in here, anyway? Chad is a man of few toiletries, so I opened the bag to see what if anything could be gotten rid of.
The bag itself is sketchy (kind of sticky—inexplicably, like a lot of his possessions acquired pre-Amy—and rarely used), so generally I steer clear of it. All I knew of the bag before tonight is that it holds Chad’s electric clippers, which he uses for his self-administered haircuts. But oh, it holds much, much more.
Exhibit A:
1) A grainy layer of clipped hairs caking the inside of the vinyl bag, whose likely provenance was the Leamington Zellers, circa 1988 (“Well, a young man needs an ‘overnight bag’”, thinks Grandma as she buys it as a birthday gift)
2) Conair electric clippers, sporting 1970s-style silhouette of a hairdressing lady cutting a dapper, similarly silhouetted man’s hair
3) a set of attachments for said Conair electric clippers, the most instructive being labeled “Left Ear”
4) A grimy contact lens case, which, when opened yielded a single folded-over, yellowed-with-age contact lens in a dry little well
5) A squeeze tube of Drakkar Noir. No, not even the vaguely forbidding black glass bottle that can sometimes still be found in the back of medicine cabinets the world over. A squeeze tube. But, to Chad’s credit, it was labeled “not for individual sale,” indicating that he likely received this seductive potion as a gift (provenance probably, again, Leamington Zellers). And lemme tell you, it still smells as potent as the day it was nestled into its gift box with Drakkar Noir soap and Drakkar Noir after-shave. Rrrroowwwrrr. Ouch, my eyes hurt.
6) And last but not least, four Trojan condoms. Four. No, he couldn’t bring one, use it up, and then replenish his toiletry bag when he got home. No sirree. This is a man who likes to be prepared.
Clippers, contacts, cologne and condoms. But you’ve gotta give him credit. What else do you really need for a night out?
Note: The photo was not modified or styled in any way. This is exactly how the bag looked as I opened it.
