Getting Clipped

Stoker cuts my hair, what little there is of it. I keep it short, attempting to make a virtue of necessity. So she sets the trimmer as low as it will go and gives me a buzz cut.

Stoker’s Handiwork. This is a pre-pandemic photo.

Stoker is not so fortunate. All the salons and barbershops are closed for the duration. The indeterminate duration. So her hair is longer and lighter in color than it has been in years.

“Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety”. The Bard may have had Stoker in mind when he penned those words. But the truth is Stoker would like a little help in the ‘withering’ department , at least in the area of her coiffure.

No such help is forthcoming for the foreseeable future. I would do anything for Stoker, but she recognizes that giving me a scissors and turning me loose on her hair would be a disaster.

But we all must make sacrifices in a pandemic. Which brings me to Gavin, who closed the salons and barbershops as ‘non-essential’.

You would think Gavin would want to set a good example for the rest of us. But somehow his hair looks exactly the same as it did 5 weeks ago. Unless he is wearing a wig, or has some magic follicle freezing gel, he is risking life and limb and virus spreading by letting someone break social distancing rules to give him a trim.

I could observe that’leaders’ who tell people how to behave exempt themselves. Our consciences are supposed to keep us from getting our hair shorn, for the good of society. But Gavin is getting shorn. And so are we.

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