Haircut Closed

So I went to see my hair stylist (that’s a weird word to me, when referring to cutting my hair — it ain’t got no style) at my appointment time. I found this sign on the door ->

Well, hell. This Hair Saloon location is within walking distance of my home, and I really like the woman who cut my hair each month. Cowgrit always approved of my cut from here.

I have a hell of a time finding a hair stylist I like. The times I’ve had to hunt for a new one, (after relocating, usually), have been filled with frustrations and bad haircuts. My hair ain’t that complicated, and I usually get it cut pretty short, so you’d think getting it right would be easy.

But no. I’ve had crooked cuts, lopsided cuts, and variations from Curly, to Moe, to Larry. So when I find someone who does a good job on my hair, (and lets me close my eyes and nap in the chair), I want to stick with her.

I say “her” because I haven’t had a male barber since I was a teenager. I’ve come to prefer a woman stylist for the purely sexist, (and maybe homophobic), reason of I prefer feminine fingers running through my hair. (My teenage-years barber was not gay. For the record. If it matters. I only add this note because my “homophobic” comment might have suggested he was.)

Anyway. So a few days pass with me wondering and fretting over how I’m going to find a new hair stylist before I start looking like a hippy. I was hesitant to go just anywhere. Random picking leads to Larry, Moe, and Curly.

But then my hair stylist calls me — she managed to get her notebook out of the previous store — and lets me know she’s set up her shingle at Super Cuts. I’ve been to a Super Cuts before. (See the fourth paragraph, above.) Plus, her location is way off out of my usual stomping grounds.

But I needed a haircut, and she is a really good stylist. She’s worth the drive, but I really liked her previous walking-distance location. I drove out to her new place.

Although I didn’t originally choose to go to the Hair Saloon for its manly setting, experiencing the non-Hair Saloon environment really makes me appreciate the difference. But, even so, I’m really glad to have my regular stylist, still. Damn, but she does a good job with my head (the process and the results).

Anything that prompts Cowgrit to say, “Hey, sexy,” when I walk in the door is a good investment. It sure beats the hell out of hearing her say, “Oh, um, my. Did you get your hair cut at the hardware store?”

Bullgrit