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Over the weekend I got the ol’ port-swiller thatch hacked back.

I get my hair cut on average about once every couple months.  This is in part because I am fairly lazy and also in part because I actually go to a salon to have it done and it’s pretty damned expensive.  (In my defense, the gal – who I’ve been with for years -knows what she’s doing.  Also, this is just about my only real personal indulgence.)

What with the long intervals, my appearance tends to transmogrify.  Mrs. Robbo says that after I get my cut I look about thirty.  By the time I bestir myself to go again, I’ve got something approaching ducktails and look like a vaguely disreputable, early-middle-aged academic.

Anyhoo, I’m not completely sure why I am even posting about this, except that I was brooding this morning that my hair is likely to turn all white and/or fall out if the eldest gel doesn’t get past this outburst of adolescent temper soon.

It seems as if somebody in programming at the local classickal radio station sure does like Beethoven’s “Triple Concerto” a lot.  I seem to hear it about four or five times a week.

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