My hair has been, well, what’s the best way to put it? — how about uncooperative of late. It sticks up and flies around like its got a mind of its own. Knowing I have a TV interview tomorrow about the DaVinci Code that will be aired someday, Kris insisted that I go today for my four-times-a-year whether-I-need-it-or-not haircut. The guy before me asked for his hair to be cut at “1”, which seemed a bit short for me, so I suggested “3” and the barber, taking a quick look-see at his challenge, said, “I think a 3.5 will be just right.” Frankly, I’ve been to barbers for about 50 years and I’ve never once, not one time, heard barbers speak of the length of their cutters. So, I got a three.point.five today.
It’s getting to where I think it might be time just to start shaving it all off. I’m game for your suggestions. By the way, when I was getting my hair cut, a retired little guy, sitting there reading a newspaper, looked up at me and asked the generalized question, “Does he get a discount?” The barber immediately said, “Nope, I charge a finder’s fee.” And then he began to tool away at a stubborn piece of stubble toward the back of my head.