Next week, I will have set a new personal record. Two months without a haircut. I have been getting haircuts since I was about four years old and I have never before had two months between haircuts.
If this coronavirus business keep going the way it has been, it could well be another month before I get a haircut. Wow, think about that. Three months without a haircut. A record I never dreamed of attaining.
You know, all of this record breaking has set me to thinking. What if I never get another haircut? My mind is reeling. I could find a retired sailor and buy some old bell-bottom pants. I could find some 1970s idiot and buy his Nehru jacket. There has to be some nut around who would sell me a ridiculous necklace. I could throw away my socks and buy some cheap shower clog shoes. I could throw away all of my underwear. I could find some old shirts and cleverly rip them.
The possibilities are endless.
On top of everything else, it really wouldn’t cost me anything because I could easily buy that junk using the twenty bucks a month I previously spent on haircuts.
It all sounds wonderful.
Anybody can look like an idiot when they are twenty. But it takes great imagination to look like an idiot when you are eighty.
There is only one hitch to this giddy up. If I were to look at myself in a mirror, I would pull out my forty-five and say, “Toot, Toot, Tootsie, goodbye.”
