One Girl Working

Must work quickly! The clouds are rolling in, and the thunder is rolling with them. I foresee a loss of internet forthwith. But then, I'm a foreseer like that.

I wanted to get a haircut today. Sounds simple, doesn't it. All I had to do was check in through my Terrible Cuts app that the #1 son so thoughtfully installed on my new phone (that is his hand-me-down) after I reminded him three times.

Guess what? I had to set up an account all over again. While sitting at the end of the driveway in T-Hoe, because forget about reception inside the Mansion. Guess what else? Google does not like our reception at the end of the driveway, either! Who knew? Certainly not ME back when #1 strong-armed us into going with SPRINT so many years ago, so he could have unlimited data. Which we appreciate now, IF we can get data. Which is not possible here.

Anyhoo...I finally got an account set up, and somehow made Google understand the store I wanted, even though the map kept giving me a message that it couldn't work. Aha! Checked In in spite of cut-blocker Google. Wait time, 0 minutes!

Of course it took me 15 minutes to get to that town. When I walked in, there were SIX people waiting, and only one worker. The not-heaven you say! On a Friday at 10:30 a.m. That's preposterous. Anyhoo...no skin of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's nose, because the one girl working said, "I'll be with you in a minute." Heh, heh. Get the app, suckers!

Those other waiters were kind of old. Older than me. So I doubt they know what hit 'em. But after playing Public Employee Standoff with no other worker there, One Girl Working called me over. Wouldn't you know it? She was the relative of one of The Pony's friends. The one I never want to get. Still...I went ahead of a bunch of waiters, even another couple who entered after me. You'd have thought Terrible Cuts was having a senior citizens' special.

I swear. That little gal can pull my hair this way and that, make a noise with the scissors, and say I'm done. Then ask if it looks all right. I told her it didn't look short enough. And that one side looked longer than the other. She felt it and said I was right. Made some more cutting noises. I asked her to layer it, like it was layered when the other girl cut it last time. She kind of fiddled with the left side a bit, and pronounced me layered!

I agreed and paid, just to get out of there. That was a wasted trip. I don't know how I can look worse when I come out of there than I do when I go in.

That pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day. But there's no time to elaborate. Storm's a-rollin' in!