It was a very busy weekend. Errands to run, house to clean, stuff to go through, lawn to mow (the ground is so saturated that it's definitely a weekly task, dammit)...and very-much needed haircut to get.

I prefer my hair short but with enough length to look decent. Due to the crappy cut I got back in June (if you don't want a "Husker farmboy cut" in Omaha they get really confused, I've found), I was now less George Lucas and more Chewbacca. In this heat it was really annoying and uncomfortable, so I went over to the local Great Clips in hopes of getting a decent cut this time.

The stylist asked me if I wanted a "five". I took this to mean she'd take off about 5/8 of an inch, so I said okay. What I didn't realize until it was far too late was that she meant she'd leave 5/8 of an inch.

Yup. I haz buzzcut. No, you don't get to see it.

Reaction at home was pretty much what you'd expect. The Redhead insisted I wear my Cards hat most of the weekend; Darling Daughter managed to restrain her laughter, but only because I had promised to take her on another driving lesson that evening. She did note, however, that I have a black "skunk streak" on the upper left side of my head. The few plusses I have found (and believe me, I've been digging for 'em) are: my ballcaps now fit just fine, I don't have to mess with a hairbrush in the morning, instead of shampooing it, I just buff and polish it, I won't have to pay for another haircut for at least two months and...well, that's about it.

My biggest worry was coming into work this morning; my coworkers are a pretty merciless crowd. So of course the first two people to see it said it looks really good on me.

Sigh.