I always procrastinate haircuts

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The reason is, is that I dislike going to the barber to sit.

And sit and sit…

Yesterday was no exception.

I’d been looking ragged for a few weeks, and I’d contemplated going in for a haircut. The way I see it, getting a haircut is like going to get gas. Eventually you’re going to reach a point where you will simply not have a choice anymore; you’re just going to have to break down and do it.

In my case, this decision is often helped along when I have to apply generous amounts of Spike Glue to my style, and then have it still come crashing down minutes after leaving the bathroom. In all, I feel that I look like a puppet of myself made out of lint.

I contemplated putting off this task until Monday…that’s when I remembered that it was President’s Day…the barber shops would most likely be closed to commemorate the leaders of the USA.

Curses.

I decided that Saturday would indeed have to be the day. However, before leaving I needed to make sure that my hair looked good, and to shave the back of my neck. After all, I didn’t want these people to think that I had absolutely no self-respect.

I drove to the barber shop and signed in. Since there were only about three other people in front of me, and three gals cutting hair, I figured that this wouldn’t take very long.

I was wrong.

For some reason, it appears that Saturday is ‘slow haircut’ day. I’d already leafed through nearly two copies of Entertainment Weekly, as well as watched part of an episode of “The King of Queens.” I was thinking longingly of my iPod, off in some distant repair shop, which’d usually helped me with long periods such as this. I didn’t even have a notebook with me in which I could write.

I was stuck.

The clock moved cataclysmically slow as a few more people walked in, apparently, having called in an appointment. I was not going to be getting a haircut quite as quickly as I may have liked.

It was at this point that something kicked in. It’s the evaluation of time spent. One begins to question whether or not they should simply wait it out—after all, they’ve already got this much time invested, or throw it to the winds and just leave—all too well knowing that they will be back in this same place in a day or two because, like I said earlier, sometime they’re going to have to come back. It was apparent that the guy just ahead of me decided that his investment would be forfeited, and I moved up one in line as he left the building.

And still I waited.

Sometime between now and the millennium, my name was called, and I was presented the chair in which to sit.

I’ve also now come to the conclusion that talking with your barber is probably not the wisest thing to do—that is when they stop cutting in order to answer your questions. I could feel my life slowly ebbing away as a ‘normal’ haircut took twice as long as it might usually have.

When she finished, I pulled out my ‘frequent visits’ punch card and asked her to get me one step closer to my free haircut.

“I don’t do those things.” She said, offhandedly, as if merely mentioning the time of day.

“You don’t?”

She shook her head, “Sorry.”

Who did this woman think she was?

I know that I should probably say something to her…mention how I’d been coming to this barber shop longer than she’d been working here, and how nobody had ever questioned the ‘free haircut’ card. Nobody but her.

That’s when I was remembered that it was Valentine’s Day.

I slid the card back into my wallet, and instead handed her a tip with a well wishing of, “Happy Single’s Awareness Day.”

I gave a wink as I left.

As I walked out the door there was a newness of the day. The sun was streaming down and melting the newly-fallen snow. The air was fresh and bright. As I walked I noticed that I had a spring in my step. Life was good…

I love haircuts.

The molding is finally in place...

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It’s official.

I’ve lived in my house for exactly one year.

Granted, I did take possession at about 10 p.m. on the night of July fourth; however, weeks of cleaning, painting, tiling, and getting it ready were required before an official move-in.

It is hard for me to believe that I’ve been here for a whole year. I remember this house feeling so strange, so foreign, so uncomfortable. Like a brand-new pair of dress shoes. Well, the house has since been ‘broken in’ and it feels like home. Many upgrades and improvements have been made over the year, but there was one which eluded me for the longest time…

Let me take you back to just over one year ago: (insert shimmering screen and time-travel music here).

Well, Shawna and I have been working really hard on the house. I get up pretty early every morning and head up to start spackling in holes. I had a group of friends who showed up the other day and helped me wash down walls; I am so grateful for the help they’ve provided…it saved me hours of work. We took out all of the screens and washed the windows, too.

I love the look of clean windows and how the world looks through them.

The other day I decided that I would pull up the linoleum in the kitchen…it’s the same design as in the kitchen of #4 Privet Drive. If you don’t believe me, watch “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.” Look at the Dursley’s linoleum in the opening scenes of the movie which take place in the kitchen with Dobby, the house elf…it’s the same floor.

I tore the linoleum out and as I did I found myself looking at the bare wood. All I could think was, “What in the world did I just do?” I wanted to sit down and never get up. I can’t believe just how much of a project this whole house has turned in to.

Well, I knew I just couldn’t leave it so I started to get to work. I next removed all of the floor molding, and started to prep for tiling. Now, I’ve never tiled before, but I decided to sit in on the little class offered at the Home Depot (after how much I’ve spent there over the past few weeks, I’m glad it is something that is free). I will just tile the thing and hope it doesn’t look terrible.

(Two days later)

I started to tile and it is going pretty quickly. Well, at first. Tiling is a lot of work and there is a lot you need to do to make sure that it is level, equally spaced, and getting cuts right, so the pieces look good together. Though this project took me only a few days to complete, I’d never want to do it again. I think I’d rather eat shards of broken glass.

So, how much time did it take altogether? Well, let me put it this way…I just finished “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” on audiobook as I was working on this and touch-up painting. The molding still needs to be sanded down, repainted, and attached to the wall. I just don’t feel like it…I am beat. I ended up putting the molding in the kitchen pantry and will do it when I feel like it.

I think I deserve a break.

(Return to the present day…)

Well, the molding just stayed in the pantry…for a whole year; I just couldn’t bring myself to put it all back on. It was far too much work in my opinion…of course, after doing everything else such as sanding the deck and restaining it, and cleaning out the back patio (which was a jungle), I just felt like doing nothing else. Every day I’d look in and see that molding. It was like the wood was continually calling my name, “Teachinfourth…put us back on the wall…” (well, the voice usually sounded like Annette or Tara, who’d both offered to do it for me, however, pride would not let me let them do it).

Well, I am happy to report that this weekend I finally completed that year-long task and my kitchen and dining room both have the molding back in place! At first it sure did look strange, I was so used to that unfinished strip at the bottom of all of the walls…It sure feels good to be done.

I would write more but it is coming up on 11 and I am bushed. I don’t have the effort to try to be funny anymore.

Time to blog out…

Goodnight.

P.S. Using power tools always makes a job much more fun...and if you are dying to see what the molding looks like now, let me know and I’ll snap and upload a photo of it...

Whoa...that sounds pretty lame even as I type it; however, you are now invested at this point, aren’t you? You’ll probably feel somewhat incomplete if you don’t see the completed project...

It’ s just a little bit odd

Pin It I pulled up to the gas pump.

The fuel gauge on my car read, “Empty.” So I wouldn’t be able to put it off any longer…not that I wanted to; I just hate those long lines that inevitably form at the Sam’s Club Gas Station.

When my turn arrived I hopped out of my car, membership and credit cards both ready and waiting. You see, I have a pattern, as I don’t like it when people pull up to the pump and then spend the next five minutes just trying to find what they need, forcing me to watch them in their ineptitude.

I’d rather eat shards of broken glass.

But as I said, I have a pattern: I pop the “fuel release” button as I jump out of the car, slide my membership card in at the pump, remove the fuel cap, insert my debit card, grab the nozzle, insert it into the car, select my fuel grade, and then begin to refuel my vehicle…this whole process takes less than thirty seconds.

As I was in the middle of my well-rehearsed routine, I noticed it…no, it wasn’t the $3.50+ cost for gas, but the fact that here I was, surrounded by other people getting fuel, and not one of us was speaking to each other. The woman on the other side of the pump was busy trying to get her card to work; the man in front of me had climbed back in his car…even though there were notices everywhere advising motorists to stay outside of their automobiles when refueling. Behind me was a line of three other vehicles, all waiting their turn at the pumps, each of them currently watching the “Zimmerman Show.” I did my best at leaning up against my car and trying to act cool…after all, if they wanted to watch somebody, I’d give them something to look at.

It’s all about eye candy.

As the pump continued to produce fossil fuels—as well as drain away my bank account—I spoke to no one. Nobody spoke to me. When my $50 purchase was completed, I quickly removed the hose, put the fuel cap back on, and re-hung the nozzle, leaping in my car and pulling away…

…still having spoken to nobody.

Now, just why do we do this? My only guess is that getting fuel is so personal of a thing that we just cannot share this experience with anyone else. OR perhaps it is instead that our collective breaths are taken away by what getting fuel really means...


Either way, it’ s just a little bit odd.

Let it rain

Pin It My head is full of reflections tonight; these tumble about in my head like the crystalline rushing of a mountain stream over a bed of smoothly-worn stones of thought.

I’ve come to realize just that life is much too short to live in apprehension, cowering with the fear of rejection, and listening to the whining of that little incessant voice in the back of our minds which whispers, “You just can’t do it.”

Who’s to stop me?

Probably just me, after all, I’ve done it numerous times before. I’m good at it too…too good to be exact.

The waters rush on as I stare at my computer screen tonight. As I do, I realize that there will be so much more to consider in the waters, what with the oncoming of the rain in the distant mountains.

Luckily, I do have an umbrella.

Let it rain.

I need to write

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I went out with a friend tonight.

She and I hadn’t talked for about a year.

She’s writing a book.

How come I’m not writing a book?

I blog.

I’m writing though, right?

But why not a book?

It’s because I’m lazy.

I need to manage my time better.

Will the book write itself?

Probably not.

I need to write.