Hairstyling

I went to my hair stylist today. Yeah, I know. I'm about the only guy in there, and there's a guy's barber shop practically next door, but it's just one of those things that happened. About ten years ago when we moved here I asked my boss where he got his hair cut, and learned there was a gal who lived close to our office that worked out of her basement, was inexpensive, and flexible in her hours. So that's where I went. Then when she moved out of town about six years later she referred me to Vickie, my current stylist, who runs her own shop in a little strip mall. We hit it off well, and I like her haircuts, so that's the way things are. Usually she schedules me for the last appointment of the day so we have the place pretty much to ourselves, meaning we can philosophize and discuss without disruption. About the only thing I don't like about the arrangement is that she almost invariably gives me the wind-swept look, then solidifies it with hair spray. Being neither the hair spray nor gel type, this I could do without, and usually as soon as I'm out of sight I comb things back to my usual look. I suppose Vickie knows this (after all, month after month I come back in with my same old locks) but I guess she feels she just ought to keep trying with me and not give up. It's an arrangement of sorts, in some aspects not unlike a good marriage. It's not likely we'll either change one change our ways, but we can still respect each other and enjoy the association, unlike those bigger shops where you never know who your next stylist might be. It's enough to keep me coming back.