I swear it almost happen the other day. It really did. I was sauntering into a bookstore when the barbershop nearby caught my eye. "Why not?," I thought. "How long's it been?"
In truth, it's been a good twenty years since I checked into a barbershop. Oh, I get hair cuts every so often. We've reduced it to something of a game in my house. Every four or five years I announce abrubtly that I am ready for a trim. I count to ten. So long as my wife can get to me with a pair of scissors before I am done counting, she can take as much as she likes. Of course, you know what follows. I boast for days that my wife cut off five or six inches but mine is still longer than most anyone I know.
But I was close the other day. Very close. I bought a couple of new suits and some new shirts. I suppose I was contemplating a complete make over. And then I remembered one of my favorite songs. For now, the hair stays.