I’ve just given myself the third haircut I’ve had this year, the second one I’ve gotten at home, and the first one I’ve given myself.

I got the first one some time toward the end of February – don’t remember exactly when [Edit: It was January 11th.] but it was before we went on vacation the first week in March. That’s when I went from looking like a crazy backwoods wild man to a vanilla white dude.

The pandemic was in full swing when we got back so I couldn’t get it cut again for weeks after that. Then, when places like barbershops opened up again I was too chicken to go in for a cut. As my hair grew out and I had to spend a lot more time taking care of it, I began to remember why I cut it short in February. Finally, last month it was too hot for long hair and, after begging My Darling B, she agreed to cut it off.

I was very happy with the cut she gave me, but there were a few scruffy-looking places that got even scruffier as my hair grew out. The one on the top of my head in particular was a lot longer than anywhere else. It tended to get tossed around in the wind and provided me with some truly astonishing bedhead this week. No photos of bedhead because the new updated me is funny-looking enough.

This ought to hold me for at least a couple of months.

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