Thanks, Kafka!

It went.  My newly grown beard didn't even last a week.    And I couldn't decide if my wife was happy or not, but she was probably too polite to say.  Or perhaps she has seen it all before.  This would have been the umpteenth time I had started, without finishing, the cultivation of a beard.  The rest of the family didn't even notice.  Oh, well.  I'm not even sure that I feel any different.  So much for the bloody metamorphosis.  Thanks, Kafka!