At least only half of it is rusty

I was halfway through shaving this morning (left leg done, for everyone keeping track) when I discovered I was using a rusty razor, having just grabbed an old disposable one from the shower caddy after abandoning my PRESERVE Triple once and for all. Now I feel (a) lopsided and (2) like our neanderthal ancestral grandmothers must have felt after starting to shave with their scythes and then having to bolt across the veldt to get away from the sabretooth tigers.

(The other day I was listening to the Radio Lab show entitled Stress, and they kept talking about tigers on the veldt and I kept yelling TIGERS LIVE IN ASIA! Which I'm pretty sure is true, but then again, sabretooths? How would we ever know about THAT? )

(And if you don't already listen to Radio Lab, you totally should, because it's awesome and have I ever steered you wrong?)

Fortunately I'm current on my tetanus, and I sure meant to check the razor blades before starting to shave, but I must've started thinking about my handsome boyfriend or how late I was for work or maybe pie. (Handsome BF actually saved the right leg from attack with a well-timed and clearly clairvoyant phone call, so, whoo, Sexy Ninja Superhero!)

Too bad the Preserve cut my legs for a good two months (and now keeps falling apart, after a tumble to the tubby ground the other day). I'll at least avoid the animal-testers (I hope) and get a Wegmans brand. It's possible that I put too much trust in Wegmans. Except that nothing but wonderfulness comes from Wegmans. It's true. I saw it in Wikipedia somewhere.