barber
could touch the razor to my face, the burning started again.

I stopped him. I couldn't take it.

And then suddenly the idea came to me that an electric razor would be
the solution. It wasn't, actually, just an idea; it was positive
knowledge. Somehow I knew an electric razor would do it. I picked one
up at the drug store around the corner and took it to the office.
Plugged the thing in and went to work. It was fine, as I had known it
would be. As close a shave? Well, no. But at least it was a shave.

Another thing was my approach to--or retreat from--drinking. Not that I
ever was a real rummy, but I hadn't been one to drag my feet at a
party. Now I got so moderate it hardly seemed worth bothering with at
all. I could only take three or four drinks, and that only about once a
week. The first time I had that feeling I should quit after four, I
tried just one--or two--more. At the first sip of number five, I
thought the top of my head would blast off. Four was the limit. Rigidly
enforced.

All that winter, things like that kept coming up. I couldn't drink more
than so much coffee. Had to take it easy on smoking. Gave up ice
skating--all of a sudden the cold bothered me. Stay up late nights and
chase around? No more; I could hardly hold my eyes open after ten.

That's the way it went.

I had these feelings, compulsions actually. I couldn't control them. I
couldn't go against them. If I did, I would suffer for it.

True, I had to admit that probably all these things were really good
for me. But it got to where everything I did was something that was
good for me--and that was bad. Hell, it isn't natural for a young
fellow just out of college to live like a fussy old man of seventy with
a grudge against the undertaker. Life became very dull!

About the only thing I could say for it was, I was sure healthy.

It was the first winter since I could remember that I never caught a
cold. A cold? I never once sniffled. My health was perfect; never even
so much as a pimple. My dandruff and athlete's foot disappeared. I had
a wonderful appetite--which was lucky, since I didn't have much other
recreation left. And I didn't even gain weight!

Well, those things were nice enough, true. But were they compensation
for the life I was being forced to live? Answer: Uh-uh. I couldn't
imagine what was wrong with me.

Of course, as it turned out the following spring, I didn't have to
imagine it. I was told.

II

It was