A Hairgrazing Scheme

 It's not unusual for me to let some time go between haircuts. 

 But this time, I really let my hair go.

I mean, really, really let it go.

This is the look of a man who should not be approached but authorities should be summoned instead.  

My daughter Randie did the math and my last professional haircut was in November.

Of 2019!  

Yes, it has been 18 months since I sat down for a professional haircut. 

Notice the qualifier: "professional haircut".

Last fall, I let Randie take a pass at giving me a bit of trim. 

But otherwise, no haircut in a year and a half.  

It's not that I have an aversion to haircuts. Look, when I was a kid, I hated (HATED!) getting my hair cut. It was a stressful time for me in that chair. 

But as I've gotten much older, I kind actually find the experience to be relaxing. 

But I'm still bad about getting haircuts. Even in the best of times, I am notoriously bad for waiting longer than I should to get a hair cut. 

My wife Andrea who is afraid of everything was also overdue for a hair cut and refused to get one until she was completely vaccinated for COVID. 

Well, now she is and we both decided there was no time like the present to go ahead and get a haircut. We both checked in online with Great Clips Saturday afternoon. 

My hair stylist was named Jessica and she asked what kind of hair cut I wanted. 

I said I wanted less roadie for Willie Nelson and something more professional.

I wanted less 1970s hippie and more like a suburban dad in the 1950s.

I wanted people to not guess if I had a hair cut. 

And this is the result. 

You damn well know I've had a hair cut. 

I think my hair looks just fine.

I can't help the head my hair is forced to rest upon.

And I'm so glad my suffering amuses you.