A hair shorter

The older I get, the less well behaved my hair gets. I think what’s happening is the hair that’s managed not to fall out is jumping up and down, waving, and yelling “I’M STILL HERE! LOOK AT ME!! STILL HERE!!!” Either that or the ear hair is fomenting rebellion.

I could go for the Einstein look, but it’s not white enough.

Some weeks ago I got out the clippers, put on the 1″ comb, and cut the misbehavers off. I tried that again Sunday, but most of the hair seemed to manage to duck under the comb, staying in place at well over an inch long. So I switched to the 1/2″ comb. That was a lot more effective. I now have hair that’s shorter than it’s been since, oh, probably about 1964. But I’ve put the fear of God into it.

In a poetically parallel development, if you look at it right, the snow’s melting. There are large patches of ground exposed in the city for the first time since, I think, late December. Up on Onondaga Hill, of course, the snow cover lingers longer.

Not that anyone believes spring is here. This is just the trailer.

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