So, about an hour of my weekend was spent cutting Steve's hair. It had gotten a bit long (read: it looked like a mushroom) and he begged, pleaded, demanded I do something about it. So I did.
I chopped, hacked, and generally did what I felt like. I had enough spare hair in my hands for an excellent toupe. I left him with a tiny bald spot at the back (easily hidden because his hair tends to be rakishly messy all the time), and no hair in front of his ears. You know, the really short sideburn bit boys have next to their ears? Yep. I kind of removed that. I didn't mean to. Hopefully, it will grow back speedily.
I write books better than I cut hair. I think.
I just want people to know that.
Tomorrow, I will be cutting nobody's hair. But I will, hopefully, be handing in my dissertation and washing my hands of it forever. And I will, hopefully, be immersing myself in writing more of CLOCKWORK. It's been so lonely and neglected this week.