The other night as Dave was getting undressed, he asked me to take a look at his back. “I think there’s something back there. It’s all itchy.”
He pulled his shirt up and revealed a patch of sunburned skin. He’d been working outside in the yard a lot and gotten a burn on the spot of skin that peeks out when he bends over in his work pants. It was in the shape of a handlebar mustache and sat right above his butt crack.
I call it his Crackstache.
He wouldn’t let me take a picture of it. He’s been willing to do a lot for me and my blog, but drew the line at his crack. So, here is my best interpretation.
The Crackstache is a wondrous, yet fleeting phenomenon. I’m soaking in its golden brown smile while it lasts.
Don’t you wish you had one, too?