Dash It All! Drat And Bother! — Two Monkeys, One Typewriter

I apologize for the harsh language, old bean, but this has thoroughly gotten my goat. Put me right in a dither.

You may recall from my earlier missives that I've grown out my beard and moustaches to where they looked rather smashing indeed, if I dare say so myself. Well, on Friday, we had our biennial mask fit test.

(Back to my normal voice) Since we work in buildings that might contain lead or asbestos, and sometimes spray lacquers, every two years we have to ensure that our filter mask is still a good fit. Which, while I'm glad our employers and OSHA care about our health, does put an end to some marvelous facial hair.

So anyway, here is an actual photo of me in my new duds just before the deed was done:

Just before? *pulls out notebook* Because according to your previous statement–

Okay, fine, a couple of nights before. My parents sent me some of Grandpa D's pipes. I had to get a shot of me begore the shave. And here's me after:

And that's the last image of me you get until I've grown it out again like a proper gent.