Ok-- maybe that last post was a little too daunting. How about an anecdote about people's foibles and personal appearance?

This morning, the usually hazy process of my getting up in the morning got a jolt when my old electric shaver not only died, it literally fell apart-- plastic, rotors and casing all over the place. Well, that just meant I had to go and pick up a replacement at the local CVS and drop it back at home (only a few blocks away).

But, perhaps unsurprisingly, the phantom shaver I followed the clerk around the store for ended up not existing. It was a regular stock item, the store manager promised even though their shaver shelf was bare. The Radio Shack down the street didn't open for another 2 hours.

Exhausting my neighborhood's potential shaver-vending establishments and with time passing, I decided to try my luck at the CVS down the street from work (in the middle of DC, for those keeping score).

Perhaps it was just a reaction against the thought that humans might have once needed to fend for themselves or (gasp) do without their triple mocha frappo-latte in the morning but when I got on the metro, I became nearly immediately a furtively-viewed roadside attraction. Come one, come all! See the caveman in dress clothes masquerading as one of us! Hearken back to the time when we humans hunted wooly mammoth!

The only time I've caught that many smirks and slightly longer than normal glances on the metro was when I (under the influence of an insomnolent night) misbuttoned my shirt. I know, I know. You think I'm being paranoid. But sitting across from the door, I could see a good number of people’s faces over the top of my newspaper.

The CVS downtown was packed, so the clerks (democratically) nominated the 24 hour photo technician to spring the lone shaver from what seemed to be a maximum security appliance prison in a steel-reinforced glass case. After the tech closed the case and hustled back to the photo kiosk, I got in the checkout line and, finally being able to fully read the intentionally vague packaging, realized that what I had in my hands was actually a mustache and beard trimmer. My hair grows quickly, but not that quickly.

In exasperation, I walked up to the counter, returned the box and decided to see if the Radio Shack a couple of blocks away was open. I only had about 15 minutes before I was supposed to be at work. The Radio Shack clerks’ faces went blank when I asked about an electric shaver. One recommended helpfully that I try CVS. In a last ditch effort, I took his advice and ducked into another nearby CVS (in near Starbucks-like proximity to the other one). Again, nothing.

Perhaps DC had declared electric shaver rationing. Or maybe Bush had sent them all to Iraq and Afghanistan to shear the beards off Muslim clerics there.

I like electric shavers because with them I can focus on more important things as I’m shaving—focusing on the news or perhaps getting my last few seconds of shuteye. It had been over six years since I had shaved “unplugged.” Besides, those of you who know me understand what a bad idea it is for me to have anything as sharp as a razor blade.

Given no alternative, though, I bit the bullet and bought a razor with packaging that would have looked more natural on an Air Force recruiting poster.

Thankfully, not many people use the bathroom on my office’s floor. If there were, I would have a hard time explaining to them why there were so many paper towels speckled with blood. It wasn’t like a bad horror movie, but I did knick myself once or twice—just small things—but with the head being the most vascularized area of the body, it was hard to get them to stop bleeding. Damn the little swivel head!

Finally rid of that pesky stubble (and a few little pieces of epidermis), the caveman that had entered the office bathroom emerged as the regular researcher that comes to work every day. I only have three or so self-inflicted little red spots on my face, which I’ve had a couple of people mistake for pimples. Great…as if I needed people to think I am any younger. ;-)

And all this before the craziness of the workday began. Blargh. I got a lot done but, as one of my colleagues said, “this place is too small for office politics."

Does anyone know of any IR/research jobs I might be able to transition into?

(this posting was written last night but I had problems posting it then)