Freya’s day. No gym – mixed blessing. And – hopefully – the medicalist activities are concluded, at least for the week. That’s one of the negatives of living this long. Not the going to see medicalists. Usually the experience is neutral to mildly positive and there is almost always improvement. But that the parts of the human machine are failing in an accelerated fashion.
I remember fondly my early days balancing work and graduate shule. And having time to worry about my own interests in between. Medicalists were seen once or twice a year on a maintenance basis and maybe a couple of other times when an infection was contracted or some such. Now the pace of life is defined by the medicalist visit schedule much as the work schedule used to define it.
On which azimuth, I noted yesterday a lovely article [Link] about humans and lice. Seems that some boffins at the Natural History Museum of the Floridas have done a DNA thing and come up with a sort of map of human migrations based on the chemistry of the local (contemporary) lice. Bonzers! Makes me appreciate my mother – Lice were the social bane of Southron mothers when I was a bairn, any child who had head lice was immediately demoted to “Trash” status, taking his/her family along for the accelerated ride to the bottom – and the cleanliness practices of the day.
Not that such have stood me very good service in my later years. Mostly from not being taught how to take care of the adult body – and having no one to ask. Introverts don’t do the social thing without coercion and hence don’t hang about locker rooms to obtain hygiene wisdom from extroverts. Which may be about the only kind of wisdom such people have to impart? An intriguing concept, very boggish and fitting and attractive, and hence to be mistrusted until verified and that will never happen. Because introverts don’t go there. Period.
Back when I was a kid cleanliness was simple. I was matriculated before I found out that there was bath soap that wasn’t Lifebuoy or Dial. Shampoo was similarly simple – I think. I don’t recall being conscious of shampoo until dandruff set in. Oh, I used it, but I just bought what I had been told to. And then changed to Head and Shoulders for the dandruff. The only thing that saved me from this wasteland of hygiene knowledge was a succession of rather good barbers over the years. The spirit of John Hunter is alive and well.
And the internet is scant help. There is the matter of trust and verification. And discarding advertisements and propaganda. For example, does one wash one’s beard with body soap, face soap, or shampoo? And does one use the same shampoo on beard as on top hair? This becomes even more complicated in seniorness when one has to balance between cleanliness and wetting of skin. And the people who sell this stuff don’t know what wetting is. They think it is immersion. But they do talk about dryness and anointments, not that such work well through a beard. And talking about dryness is the root of the contemporary heresy (nonsense, if you will) of “n times less”. Sometimes I despair of the cancer words invented by bogs that fly in the face of science and maths and reasonable things like that.
It’s almost enough to make a fellow take up shaving again, except that after all these years I know that would be a worse nightmare.
But like knowing lice are lice wherever humans have gone we know that whereever humans are, there are all sorts of age related hygiene difficulties.