Haircut Day

There's something cleansing to the act of basic maintenance that you've been meaning to do because you have no time and you'll get to it soon and the next thing you know your shoes have holes and your hair is a nest and you're so used to being a colossal mess that you don't even bat an eye when you get nervous looks from the passerby because you've gotten a little too close to the gutter even though I'm positive that was the top headline of fashion a few years ago but you take a day when you don't work and you tell your friends that you're busy and that you have things to do and you attempt to tame whatever anxiety you develop with a tiny little stool made of whatever courage you can muster and put yourself into the hands of a complete stranger who cuts things for a living and that definitely doesn't bother you at all.

No offense to wood workers.

It all turns out in a fashion not that you're feeling fashionable because the hair cutting place (the barber, the salon?) has murals of finely coifed people that have been photo-shopped into a completely different species of being but they make you feel like an alien with your split ends and sub ten dollar hair supplies and it's windy outside so the elegant presentation that you see when you're all done and you think to yourself that it isn't all that bad you might even try something new with your look is dashed by a playful wind and you remember why you do what you do to your do because time is the one thing no one has which is why you declared today a maintenance day if you'll recall but have no fear because you can still cross it off on your list of things to do between pick up milk and think about replacing your holey socks with something that won't make you cringe if you ever have to take off your shoes for whatever reason in the company of other people and just remember kids if you burn your holey socks that does not make it a holy flame so please don't try this at home.

Do not tell the firefighters I encourage burning down your house.

On your way back home you feel empowered with your wind tousled hair and a shortened list that is growing by the second but you only look at it out of the corner of your eye because today is about progress against entropy even if it wins in the end eventually so you pull up your pants and you straighten your shirt and you wish your big toe wasn't sticking out of your sock but you'll manage as you have for entirely too long and you go to collect your bread and ooo that's on sale and that's on sale and you remember reading something about supermarket psychology which sounds super villainous and now you're imagining the stock person wearing a cape because this definitely has to be a cover because how could they not know the exact aisle where your childhood lives with it's red fives and blue three dyes and you'll find it yourself when all you really wanted was to get some bread and some cold cuts.

The back of the store is an evil lair. You didn't hear that from me.

And now you're a bit more broke and hey there's a goose by the pond on the way to your place and now you have an excuse to not go outside because geese are foul and you know that was an awful joke but you had to chuckle at your own cleverness if only for a moment before you unload and unwind with your hair that is once more a nest for the birds but not the geese but hey today was productive and you've earned a little rest so kick up your feet with your holey socks and your ever growing list of things you should be doing and have yourself a five minute reward.

No geese were harmed in the scribbling of this message.