Women and Hair Appointments
What is it? It’s hair!
The door to my study slides ajar. Jenny pops her head around.
“I'm off to get my hair done, honey. I have a tint booked, so you shouldn’t expect me back before noon,” she said joyfully.
Looking out the window, snow had fallen.
There were already three inches lying.
“Do you think that’s wise, love? Could you not go when the storm has passed, and the roads are cleared?”
“I’ve had this appointment for weeks, Harry,” she said, entering the door. “We leave for New York next week, and I won’t get another appointment before that.”
In my head, I thought about the coming together of metal, the breaking of glass, and airbags released with an explosion of sound. My wife hurt.
What do I not understand about women and their hair?
“No need to worry; our car is four-wheel drive. The hairdresser is less than three miles away. Oh, and by the way, your favourite biscuits are in the jar for your ten o’clock break,” she said, leaning over my shoulder to kiss my cheek.
My morning is suddenly filled with angst. I know there’s likely to be mayhem on the roads, and my wife believes our all-wheel drive is four-wheel drive, which it is not. Don’t get me…
