The Plague Diaries: Day 43 Escalating Headsuit problems
Bruce was telling me that at this point in the quarantine, it might be easier to move than to clean up their apartment. He says he lost the dog. It must be under a pile somewhere.
But mostly he despairs about his hair.
I told him Tom came out of the bathroom the other day very pleased with himself. He'd trimmed all the hair on his head that he could see. So basically, business in the front, party in the back.
(I was going to stick a picture of someone with a mullet right here, but the search started to provoke too much anxiety and 80s flashbacks. It felt like a trigger risk, so no photo.)
As for myself, I trained for this moment. I'm always about six weeks behind the moment that I really should have gone to the hairdresser.
Tom did a better job than this guy's wife, for sure:
But mostly he despairs about his hair.
I told him Tom came out of the bathroom the other day very pleased with himself. He'd trimmed all the hair on his head that he could see. So basically, business in the front, party in the back.
(I was going to stick a picture of someone with a mullet right here, but the search started to provoke too much anxiety and 80s flashbacks. It felt like a trigger risk, so no photo.)
As for myself, I trained for this moment. I'm always about six weeks behind the moment that I really should have gone to the hairdresser.
Tom did a better job than this guy's wife, for sure:
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| I'm reluctant to call what my wife did to me a haircut. But here it is. Well done, wife. Another string to our bow. Bored Panda |
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