A twist of the wrist and a poor alignment of the razor relative to the chin led to a cut that would not stop bleeding. Couldn't find the stub of a styptic pencil that used to roll out of the medicine cabinet each time I reached for the Pepto. Must have disappeared the last time I had a tummy ache and priorities being the gut at that moment, the pencil was swept out of the bathroom with that week's cleaning.
Now I need it. In its absence I used the old toilet paper trick.
There was French teacher in junior high school, Mr. A__. You know who I'm talking about. Pit stains, flood pants, scraps of tp on his neck. Drops of dried blood on his collar. Poor slob. Who knew that would some day be me?