a new appreciation for barbers

All good things come to an end, and that includes my condition of not needing a haircut. I last got a haircut on March 7, while visiting my parents on the weekend before entering quarantine, which in retrospect was great timing; but it's been two months since then and I'm getting quite overgrown.

I always get my haircuts when visiting my parents, since Lucia is an old family friend. I wonder how she's doing these days. She used to have her own hair salon, but she had some kind of disagreement with the landlord and had to move out. Now she does haircuts from her basement and makes ends meet by cleaning homes and offices. Of course, covid screwed all that up. Hope she's doing okay.

When I first entered quarantine, I sorta thought this would all be over by the time I needed another haircut, but the stay-at-home order has been extended through the end of May and there's no end to the situation in sight. And my bangs are in my eyes. So, time to fix that. I strategically waited until after my parents dropped off groceries for me, so they couldn't comment on what a hack job it was. (Instead, they commented on how badly I needed a haircut. Oh well.)

I did a trim all around—bangs, sides, back. The bangs were weirdly difficult, like an old Ernie-and-Bert routine: I'd cut one side, and then it'd be shorter than the other side, so I'd cut the other side, and then that side would be shorter, and finally I was like OKAY STOP CUTTING even though they were palpably out of sync. Also I'm quite sure the back is uneven but who cares in my apartment NOT ME. The important part is it's not touching my collar any more.

Basically I've gained a new appreciation for barbers.

Later I checked my phone and found that Dad texted me literally as I was cutting my hair. "Shall I ask Lucia if she's giving haircuts?" he asked. No, Dad, because it's dangerous, but I didn't say that. I just told him I already did it myself.