I go upstairs to get ready for bed after watching the local news. Well, the first twenty minutes of it-- I bail when they start talking about professional sports. So I walk into my bathroom, flip on the light, and there looking out at me as I look into the mirror. . .
AAARGH! I yell, as I rush to the railing on the landing overlooking the great room where BBBH is seated on a sofa reading, as is her wont. She, a bit startled, starts to rise from the sofa. "What's wrong?" in an anguished tone of voice.
"I looked into the mirror and there is this terribly ugly and hideous old man in there looking back at me! Wrinkles, no, gullies and arroyos at the corners of his eyes, the Christmas eyes encased in purple bags, crevices in the forehead." Long, sustained groan.
She, being who she is, attempts to reassure me with comforting lies.
And I go ahead and brush my teeth and get in bed.