The Gray Days of May

The saga of my hair continues. After my last haircut disaster, I chose a different barber. He was a chatty, conventional fellow, so I figured it would be a good match.

We discussed my particular haircut needs, and when the question of length came up, I tried to describe what I wanted. He was a little unsure of what I meant, so he said, “I’ll cut it to a medium length, and if you want more, I can cut more.” Apparently, what he meant by “medium length” was “so short everybody can see the lice crawling around on your scalp.”

Mrs. Lefty, who always thinks my hair gets cut too short anyway, was furious. “You’re never going to him again,” she said.

Then, as we were riding in the car this week, my wife snorted at me with glee, “You’ve got gray!” Ack! It is true. I have never before noticed gray on my head, but there they were, accentuated by my new haircut, two wiry, gray hairs.

I guess this is it. My life is rapidly coming to an end. You can all begin to prepare your remarks for my memorial service. I’m sure your tributes would bring tears to my eyes if I were still alive.

Also, coming up this week...

• The long awaited paperclip-buttonless pants diagram.
• My trip to the emergency room just before I went out of town on business.