I Would Prefer a Bald Barber

That time had rolled around again and I am past due for a haircut. I took the bottles back to be recycled and made enough to pay for my haircut. That is what they call serendipity. Probably no one calls it that, but I rarely have call to use “serendipity” in my life, so I thought I’d give it a whirl. I’m just not that comfortable with it. Hmmmm.

I got in the car and headed down to see Dennis at his relatively new place of business. For those who have read this blog on a regular basis, Dennis is my barber of many years, mainly because he was conveniently located and he charged less than most barbers. I wrote a blog a while back about Dennis called “Human Sphincter” which tells of my months of agonizing about whether I should follow Dennis, who I don’t really like that much, or find another barber. I opted to follow Dennis since it was just easier in the long run.

I walked into the “new” barber shop (est. 1967) and asked the young girl there if Dennis was around. She said that he had retired to Lethbridge AB. Retired? WTF? How could he retire after I decided to follow him to this new place? I wasn’t aware that barbers retired, and I told the girl that. How could he do this to me? Now I was stuck! I am standing face to face with my new barber it seems, and I ask her if she thinks she can make me good looking. The way she hesitated before answering gave me confidence that she was basically an honest person and didn’t trust herself to lie convincingly.

I sat down and we began talking about Dennis. I guess a couple of his kids live in Lethbridge (why for God’s sake) and one managed to get Dennis a place in the senior’s complex. I can imagine there are lots of spaces available; nobody wants to live in Lethbridge. Even the dinosaurs choose to die off rather than live in Lethbridge. Dennis isn’t too happy in Lethbridge either, and a couple of weeks ago he hinted that he wanted to come back to the shop. WTF? I have a new barber now! I guess I will have to wait and see what happens.

I think I will stay with the new barber, because she was telling me that the main reason Dennis retired is that his eyes were so bad. His fucking eyes are bad? I followed him to the new place and he couldn’t see to cut my hair. That explains the giggles and whispers I hear behind my back every time I had my hair cut. It also explains why he stood so close to me when he cut my hair. I hope that’s why he stood so close. I could tell how many coins he had in his pocket sometimes.

Earlier today, this blog was going to be about whether you should go to a bald barber, or stick to one with a full head of hair. I don’t really see any difference, but I would imagine the bald barber would dream of having hair that needed cutting and would spend more time thinking about hair and how to cut it than a less follically challenged barber would. One thing is for sure, I would prefer to have a bald barber than a blind one, no matter how much the blind one rubs up against me.