attack of the giant insects

i live with a giant.

he was excited about the bathroom mirror when we moved into this house because he could finally see himself without stooping down like usual. and it's true, it must have been hung by a giant like him, because i can only see from the bridge of my nose up (and about two feet of air above my head).

because i didn't see the bottom of my face in such a long time, i finally found out exactly how many pretty black hairs grow out of my chin when left unmolested. it was awesome. (even more awesome was making the discovery in a restaurant bathroom and realising how long i had been walking around like that.)

life for a giant isn't all just fun and games playing tricks on midgets with mirrors, though. J clocks himself on the head with surprising frequency. it's not that he has particularly poor depth perception, or anything, it's just that things often come within one tiny, painful centimetre of being high enough for him, and the rest of us seem to fit in the world so easily that he ambles along hopefully, too, bonking himself in the noggin. poor monkey.

i may not be tall and slim, and i may have a beard, but at least i can't remember the last time i hit my head.