The Hair.

     I'm sitting in the car, and every time I breath out something in my nose is tickling me. I figure, booger. I grab a tissue, get to work, and nothing. So I pull down the vanity mirror and attempt to get a look at where the offending invader is hanging out. So I tilt my noggin back, look up the ol' two-car garage, and I see this albino looking hair lodged sideways. As I am not an albino, I assume it's a hair from my dog. He's brindle colored and has this really bad habit of sitting on my pillow, so I figure I breathed it in in the night and it's just now bothering me. While trying to grab it, it turns into quicksilver: the harder I grab it, the more it slips through my fingers. I have to wait until I get home and then I get tweezers and go all "Operation: The Game" on it. When I finally get it and pull something totally unexpected happens: I start crying! It was attached!
     Listen, there's nothing wrong with growing old. As a matter of fact, I'm looking forward to it. But no one told me anything about white nose hairs. I don't remember that in any contract. But it's not really the white nose hair that bothers me. It's the timing of the white nose hair. I'm not even thirty (yet) and I'm having a kid. While 30 is supposed to be the new 20, it sure feels like thirty. I've never been this heavy, tired, or white-nose-haired in my life. And I'm supposed to keep up with a teenager when I'm 45? Why don't I just get in the "Check in here to have a stroke" line now? Am I too old to be doing this? It's not like I have much of a choice, but I don't want to be the weird old dude that everyone's trying to figure out if I'm the parent or the grandparent during open house.