I got scruffy.
I have too many holes.
I need to revisit puberty.
I might need to sign up for lumberjack classes.
In other words, I failed. Frustrated, I simply grew a beard by downloading one off the Internet. It's also difficult to account for a beard, too, because the majority of hairs that grow in are Casper-the-Friendly Ghost white. They just can't be seen.
Even so, beardless - or sadly bearded - I decided to trim up the ridiculous attempt after putting a pork roast in the Crockpot and working with Chitunga to snowplow and shovel the 7 or so inches we got. Pretty snowfall, actually. Great excuse to be indoors all day to plan, write, watch basketball and chill out.
I'm in good company, however. Mustapha and Chitunga have a harder time than I do, even though they both have impressive chin hair - they are simply without follicles on the rest of their face.
Crazy to be born closer to the pink belly of a pig than the black bicep of a gorilla. I'm sure some would say, "Be thankful, Crandall." I don't know. I just wanted to do the winter of 2017 in style.