I hate haircuts so you can imagine how unkempt I have to feel when even I'm coming around to the notion of getting one, though I'm not exactly racing to get into the chair, if you follow my drift. I used to have to get them every ten days, like clockwork, when I was in the Air Force and I don't miss that at all.
The people with whom and for whom I work don't really notice or if they do, their comments and observations are so stealth, they have thus far eluded my detection. I think they're still processing my long and VERY grey mustache.
Actually, come to think of it, they are handling the mustache rather poorly as I've heard a raft of muttered 'gee, when did you get that?' kind of comments as if I'd ordered a lip caterpillar from one of those As Seen on a TV sites and it had finally been delivered.
IF only I could have afforded the separate postage and handling I could have gotten a second one, in a different color, for free as a special bonus during this TV offer. Push comes to shove, they could have doubled as eyebrows if I ever needed to go undercover as Groucho's stunt double.
Weekend's almost done and there's still plenty of snow on the roof but spring must be here because the bare spots seem to be growing larger. I just keep telling folks I've learned so much my brain expanded and to keep me safe, my head got bigger so, no, I'm not going bald. And no, I don't how to spell minoxidil and keep standing there and I'll spell a few other words, but you won't like any of them.