the bag said squirrels will not like it
Dear Tina, my barber of the last 10 years,
I cheated on you. Again.
We’ve talked about the first time I got my hair cut by someone else. That time when I went on Thanksgiving holiday to Europe and I was grossly shorn in that joint by the red light district.
But I was having one of those days yesterday. Despite a slew of really good things (including a new electronic postal scale and positive movement in the car buying process) I was slightly funked and blaming it on my partial mullet.
I went to a local barber and immediately felt out of place by the Maxim and Hot Rod magazines. I much prefer the Car and Driver you have on hand Tina.
When he approached my beard with electric clippers, I knew it was time to stop.
I left feeling guilty but somewhat lighter and stopped by the grocery on the way home. Snow was coming and I like to be prepared.
Over-carrying a mega-sized thing of birdseed and two handfuls of plastic bags cutting off circulation in my fingers, I noticed the front door looked different. Did Dan hang up a wooden snowman and put out a welcome mat? (insert look of horror) No. He hadn’t. I went to the wrong apartment door. All these buildings look the same. My mind was officially fried.
So I trudged through the last snow that hadn’t cleared to the correct door and my pants fell down around my ankles. That’s what happens when I don’t wear suspenders.
Don’t worry, I was sporting fun boxers yesterday and it was dark. But at that moment I broke the knit in my brow and started laughing.
The snow came today and the birds are enjoying the plate of seed left out on the balcony. As soon as I can, I’ll be down, beg your forgiveness, and get this beard tamed.
Current music: Over the Rhine “Go Down Easy”