Monday night Tom and I both arrived home around 8:00. We ate dinner together and then both went about doing our own things. Tom was working on his homework, and I was research and organizing the information I found on Grad schools into an excel spreadsheet. For feminine reasons, I was particularly frustrated at this time of the month, and Tom was surprised by my outbreaks and frustrated exclamations. I couldn’t get things to format the way I wanted. It was silly but it had been a long day and I was exhausted. Sensing my need to relax, Tom left his homework and suggested we do something, go for a run, watch a Good Eats episode, or perhaps cut his hair. I went for the last one as it had been on my “to-do” list for weeks. I cut his first and it turned out nice. I then asked if he would cut mine. I am the type of person that doesn’t cut their hair for months- six in this case, and then all of a sudden realizes it must be cut. When that happens it doesn’t matter who or how it is cut, just that it is cut.
My philosophy has aways been, “I can go and pay someone a bunch of money, just to get a cut that is either so conservative that it wasn’t worth it (though it was what I asked for); or end up with something that I hate and then be frustrated about spending the money. Or I can cut it myself. Then if I mess it up, I can’t be too mad because all I have to blame is my own stupidity for cutting my own hair.”
So after my pleading Tom agreed. I told him the methods that I have used, and watched others use, to cut straight, measure for evenness, and layer. He did all three- and very successfully! He was precise and mathematical about it. He cut the back and I layered and added some bangs in front. All in all I like it.
So there you have it- if you want a haircut, come on over. We’ll set out a chair on the porch, and you can endure the hair falling all over you- because we don’t have a cape!