Went into town today and got my hair did.
I was pretty desperately in need. Things you don’t think about when you set up shop in a new place for three months — are you going to be able to get a haircut, or are you going to have to rely on H taking a pair of scissors to it at some point just to get it off your ears?
(Or are you going to just grow it out again?)
(OK, let’s not get silly.)
We had been in the town square a few weeks ago, though, and I clocked a place on the edge of the square that had a single barber chair (and a mural on the side announcing the “Barber House” in big letters), so it was just a matter of figuring out the schedule and making it work. I tried yesterday but this guy is evidently the only barber in town, and he let me know I needed to make an appointment. Thankfully he had an opening today.
It looks a little floofy — H says it’s a “Greek haircut” whatever that means — but it’s short again and who am I to judge. It’s not like there aren’t already a few other floofy bits to me.