Diary 38

Saturday, April 25th

Todays’ major event was the haircut. Of course, I drank my usual gallon of bleach first, as recommended by our ‘president”. [ No, I didn’t.]

The clippers arrived, finally (massive demand at Amazon had ensured a long wait) and the instructions were perused. So, actually, were the Youtube videos of how to cut your own hair, all of which featured men far more handsome than me, with far shorter hair to begin with, who were effortlessly transformed into style icons. But they all had far less curly hair than I do. I was beginning to feel this could turn out to be other than the full-color brochure suggested.

A robust sense of the absurd was called for.

Fortunately my wife was on hand to take over the entire operation. If you ever need a haircut and no barber is available, find an artist. They’ll see you right every time.

I now have my new lockdown haircut. I’m pleased with it, but then, you know, I don’t actually have to look at it unless I pass a mirror. And I have a hat.