Cutting Hair

Merril mows my hair.  Let me re-start that.  Merril cuts my hair.  It saves us heaps.  Some may think it would be easy to cut Peter’s hair as there is not a lot of it.  I tried that once with a barber.  I suggested he should charge me less because I had less.  His response?  Search fees.  I was not ready for that.  It called for thinking on my feet but I was sitting down.  In the barber’s chair.  At his mercy.  It seemed better to respond with a “yes sir,” and “no sir.”  There are few occasions when I am more vulnerable.
I am thankful Merril does it.  I must admit though having her say things like “I will try not to strangle you, but I am not making any promises” makes me a little uncomfortable.  Merril cut my hair this morning.  I sorta would prefer that we were alone to do that.  But when I looked in the mirror I wondered who that was staring back at me.
I know when it is time I had a haircut because Merril says it is time I had a haircut.  She uses her index finder and does a motion that is sideways and spring like and tells me my hair is getting long.  How can I look like a mad professor with short hair?  I prefer to think of my long hair as wavy, rather than curly.  I know though there are patches that are…is the word eccentric…no concentric.  Besides, I don’t know that it matters if my hair is long because mothers gathering small children to themselves and hurrying indoors at my appearing happens to everyone doesn’t it?
Now that I am getting old I am allowed to repeat myself.  In fact, it is expected of me.  It’s the law!  Merril was cutting someone’s hair and there was a group of us sitting around.  Unbeknown to Merril the electric cutters had stopped working.  She did wonder why it was proving to be so hard.  Undeterred, she decided she just needed to use more force.  The only comment from the person having their hair cut was, “at least the doctor had the decency to knock me out.”
What stood out to me was how all of us not doing it were experts.  I have found that so often there is a gulf between what I think and do.  In my mind it happens this way and when I do it, it is similar, but different.  Things take practice.  I get it wrong before I get it right.  In the end, I get it right more often than I get it wrong.
Often things are easier to say than do.  I have seen it so often in footy.  Here I am at home watching the tv broadcast.  It is obvious that with one more pass the try line is wide open.  The thing is, I am not the one in the heat of the battle.  I am at home enjoying a pizza and coke.  There are many reasons why the final pass is not thrown, but vision tends to be limited when there is someone in front of me, intent on stopping me from doing what I want to do.
Merril cutting my hair is a practiced art.  I reckon she does a great job.  Though those people pointing at me and holding their sides laughing till tears form in their eyes has me wondering.  Maybe I better go have another look.