I made my way to Miss Margarets today for my Hair Cut.
No. I didn’t go to a Barber Shop.
I don’t know of a Barber Shop close to where I live.
Miss Margaret has a shop on the bottom floor of her house.
It’s a 100% “Hair Cutting Shop.” I’m not using that “Salon” name.
It has a Health Inspection rating and everything.
It had been so long since I had a haircut that I forgot how I even got it cut.
“Use a three-guard on the whole thing.”
She quickly corrected me. “You don’t want that, Lynn.” Shaking her head, “no.” “We use a three on the sides and blend the top.”
“Yes, Ma’am. That. Do that.”
The good thing about using her is that you’re there by yourself.
She makes her appointments so that only one Customer is in her shop at a time.
In past years, I did go to Barbers to get my haircut—when I lived in the City.
Then, I moved to the country.
The “Cities” probably still have plenty, but out in the country, where I live, they’ve dwindled down to nill.
She does the Hair for a lot of elderly people. A lot of sick people as well.
And, I’m sure she has done the Hair for deceased people, so they look good for their viewing.
I’ve also had my Aunt Gail do my Hair. (Hey, Aunt Gail. Love you.)
She’s retired from cutting Hair now, though.
I do miss the days of going to a Barber, but out in the country, I guess there isn’t enough need.
We had “Quick Cuts” or something like that at one time, but even it went under.
We did converse as she cut my Hair.
Miss Margaret does have a pleasant conversation with you as she cuts.
So, my point is: I got my Hair cut today.
