Although it is still not too warm, the sun is shining on the twin cities, and there is a definite smell of spring in the air. In a few weeks, the Minnesota Twins will open their new stadium and play their first outdoor baseball at home for nearly thirty years. It is time time to cut myself out of my goose-greased underwear and wash out the nooks and cranies.
I should also indulge myself in a haircut. I got a trim last Autumn, somewhere in Ohio, I think: a backstreet, walk-in barber's shop, full of old men talking non-stop. This, of course, is 'big city', so I don't suppose I will find anything similar (not that they won't be there, I just won't know where)
I asked Google to find some, but ladies went to its barbershops, or its barbershops had gone to the dogs. So I got adventurous (it's spring!) and tried Yellow Pages. It gave me a measly three, and two of those were the same. It also, inexplicably, offered three "single-men dating agencies" in Kansas: possibly a bit of fine tuning needed on the search algorithm.
I tried the one which wasn't a repeat, or a dating agency. A bright young lady greeted me and asked what she could do for me. Why do people do that? I've walked into a barber's shop with six months of hair on my head; it's got to be obvious, hasn't it?. Anyway, I've no sooner confessed my intent than she asks for my phone number. Sadly, she was far from grown-up. But she did alright with the hair.
They also offered to trim my beard, but there's something a bit too 'Samson and Delilah' about that. Anyway, matching it up to the hair allows me to look lovingly at myself in the mirror for an hour. And I don'r even have to ask for my phone number.
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