It’s decided; for the time being I look much better clean-shaven.
That’s ok, though. One day, I’ll go home for Christmas and be like ‘hey, Dad; I guess that beard’s pretty good, but check this out -‘
and I will tear the balaclava off my face and reveal glorious red-brown fuzz
and he will say ‘son,
I have nothing left to teach you.
Take my walking stick.
I don’t deserve to wield it any longer.’
You’ll all see.