So long, trusty Norelco. You served me well for five good years, always ready to keep my facial hair neatly trimmed. Your detachable head came in handy when I wanted to trim small areas or maintain my sideburns, which I gamely sported all through college, because I took pride in my ability to grow them. Your sturdy handle, cast in a somehow manly magenta plastic, has been a constant presence in my young adult life. Why did you die? We'll never know. You were fine before I flew to Houston; I used you that morning, and you didn't complain. True, your battery hasn't been what it once was, and I've had to keep you plugged in all the time, but that was always your way, trusty friend: You served without reservation. Did the flight somehow break you? Did you perhaps just decide it was time to move on? All I have are questions with no answers. Take care, old friend. Tomorrow morning, a brand new Remington will take your place in my bathroom, but never my heart. Trim on.