Please visit my blog as I write my first book, the authorized biography of Leonard Pennario.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Yesterday I got my hair cut. I am always overdue for it, so always there is an inquest afterwards, when I grill myself as to why I did not make it in earlier. And there is a resolution that I will not let as much time pass. The hairdresser reprimands me. I apologize.
It is a little like going to confession when you have let too much time lapse. Speaking of which I am overdue for that too. That priest at St. Michael's told me he wanted to see me back there in a month and it has been at least six weeks. Probably two months. Aiiiieee! It is two months! I just looked it up and the Web log does not lie.
Back to my haircut. I am starting to think what the heck, I should just wear a turban like Beethoven's girlfriend Antonie Brentano.
Because it is maddening to get a haircut in Buffalo. It is like getting a new car. It depreciates the minute you leave the shop!
That haircut will never, ever, look the same!
I had to sprint the three blocks back to the office. That meant putting on a hat. Now I have hat head. The wet snow whips at my hair. A cab rounds the corner, splashing me.
Seeing that there was nothing I could do about the situation, I was quick to see the bright side. I could go to Zumba that evening and not worry about it. If my haircut had been fresh and immaculate I might have been reluctant. Because if the Zumba class is good, by the time you get out of it, it is as if you have been dunked in the pool.