Hair in Time of Quarantine
Over the last couple of weeks of the quarantine, it has become increasingly clear to me (as if it took a pandemic to make it any clearer) that we humans, as a species, are a fickle and capricious lot. After all, why would anyone with even half a brain risk deat-by-COVID to go to the beach, a bar, a restaurant, or God forbid, a tattoo parlor? A tattoo parlor? Really? Isn’t hepatitis bad enough for you folks? Clearly, political views and ignorance of the Constitution supersede science and, worst of all, commonsense. I guess that is really no big surprise, but the nutters seem to be coming out of the woodwork these days.
I must admit that my wife (who’s quarantine-coif suits me just fine) has seriously thought about driving to South Carolina to get her hair done since the Palmetto State believes in unfettered Constitutional rights to assemble en masse. And I understand. She called a stylist last week in NC about getting an appointment since NC is easing up, too (we are in phase one-half, I think), and the appointment she got was in June! My wife is not a member of the gun-toting, violation-of-my-Constitutional-rights crowd, but I have seen her eyeing the shotgun in my closet lately and I am a little worried that this hair thing is getting out of hand. I even volunteered to cut her hair on Mother’s Day to ease the stress when she walked in public with me and dogs who seem not to mind her hair at all, either. However, she didn’t take me up on it.
I really don’t understand her reasoning (nothing new there in most houses, I would guess), because I am just fine when she takes the electric dog shears and cuts my hair to uniform a quarter inch all over when I need a cut. I expect there is every chance that I will be cutting my own right soon!