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.
I do not think that priest will accept Leonard Pennario as an excuse.
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.
So I went to Zumba with no worries.
La la la la la la la.
That much has gone right anyway!
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