I had a haircut this morning. It never fails to brighten me up. And it seems to be linked, in some esoteric way, with an instant urge to workout and flex some muscles. Which is exactly what I did as soon as I got home, but that's beside the point (the whole fitness "routine" will only last a week or so, anyway).
What I did mean to write about is the sheer horror of realizing that my hair looked like a grey cat's fur. At least that's exactly what it looked like lying there on the floor, before they brushed it away. I just stared at it for a few moments, wondering whether that really was my hair, growing out of my head. And how could I have walked around all these weeks with that wretched thing on my head?
I'm so glad I'm back to my more presentable self now (or as my mother would delightfully put it, like-you-just-got-out-of-prison look).
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