I came in to work today feeling good. Got to sleep in a little bit, didn’t have students in the building today, nice, easy drive in. Had myself a great little work session, got a handful of things done, then went into the main building. Checked mail, got a great little pick-me-up (a student nominated me for teacher of the month!), said hi to some co-workers — a lot of co-workers, actually. Sat and talked with some colleagues for a little bit, the usual workplace venting and complaining and resolving to carry on with new burdens. All in all, a great morning.

Got back to my building, went to the bathroom, caught my reflection in the mirror —

And there, just above the line of my mask (yeah I’m virtue-signaling, bring it), hanging off my earlobe, dried and crusted like a day-old bird turd, was a big ol’ glob of shaving cream.

This happens to me a lot, actually. Always the right ear. Maybe I’m like one of those people who gets brain damaged and can’t see the right sides of people’s faces, but only fills it in based on what the left side looks like. (Except that I very clearly noticed it in the mirror later, so I guess that’s out.)

Anyway, a bit of water and it’s gone, no big deal — except that I greeted over a dozen co-workers with shaving cream on my ear. I walked around the building for an hour with shaving cream on my ear. I had an impromptu department meeting — for fifteen minutes! — with shaving cream on my ear. Say what you will about me making it from my house to my job in such a sorry state; if we are colleagues, friends, acquaintances — I expect you to tell me when I look like an idiot!

This has to be the bare minimum we set for each other, to look out for each other and make sure we don’t go on from a given encounter looking ridiculous. We owe each other that much.

I would do it for you.

Tomorrow I’m going to put a dollop on both ears and see how long it takes for somebody to say something.