I try to be a sharing person; especially when it comes to my family. In fact, I believe strongly in sacrificing for my family. Of course, even I have limits.
There is one thing I do not share well. There is one thing I keep all to myself. My blue comb is mine.
You see, I have had my blue comb since I was in 10th grade. It has the fat teeth with the large spaces between them as well as the small teeth that are close together. It has a lot more class than the traditional black barber's comb I had as a kid, or the Arthur Fonzerelli comb I had in Jr. High.
Me and the blue comb have been through a lot. It was with me during my Shaun Cassidy hair days. It was with me during my well styled Wall Street look. It has been with me during the most recent receding/thinning hair period.
I keep my blue comb high on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet....away from wandering hands. In my household, the life span of a comb is typically 2-3 months. Around here, a comb is often times used as a screw driver to open up a toy, or a weapon to sting another brother, or as a tool to pry dog poop out between the grooves of the soul of a tennis shoe.
Recently, as we prepared all the kids for a "nice" outing, there were no combs to be found (Later found one with Spike. Add pet grooming to the list above.). So, Mrs. WHW went for my blue comb. As you might have guessed, I freaked. I insisted on overseeing its use and ensuring its proper return.
In retrospect, I was probably a bit overzealous in my protection of the blue comb. However, in stressful times people frequently react in extreme ways.
Since this time, I have found the blue comb on the side of the sink. I'm not sure if it is a slip, or someone is sending me a message. Either way, my blue friend must find a new sanctuary.
I am far to old to break in a new comb. Besides, friends have to stick together/
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