Losing Your Bag and Your Hairstylist
by Bella Rum
H is outside with the guy from our irrigation system company. Even though he called them one-and-a-half months ago, this was the earliest appointment he could get. The past three nights have fallen below freezing. Now we know; make the appointment in late August next year.
Even though our nights have gotten colder, our days have been pure splendor. We stopped for lunch at a restaurant a few days ago, and I could hardly believe it was warm enough to eat on their patio. After all, it is late November, but was a perfect day. While I was sitting there, I noticed a car pulling out of the parking lot. The driver’s purse was sitting on top of the car. I actually stood up and started to wave my arms, but it was too late. She was gone. Dollars to a donut that she had a couple of kids in the backseat. They can make you forget anything. When my son was little, I lost a diaper bag that way. It was a good bag, too. When I realized it was gone, I went back to look for it, but it was gone. C’est la vie.
We went to Williamsburg last Friday. After a very short time at the outlets, we opened the sunroof and drove down the Colonial Parkway. It’s a beautiful drive anytime of year, but it’s especially pretty in the fall. What a nice day it was.
I like my hairstylist very much, not only because she does a good job, but she’s a very nice person. Even though it’s a bit of a drive, I enjoy the small, historical town where it’s located, and the entire experience of the shop with its friendly people, tall, original tin ceilings and antique furnishings and hardwood floors, but… On my last visit, when the woman at the check-out desk handed me my charge slip, I noticed a $14 increase. There have been increases over the few years I’ve gone there, but really? I thought there was a mistake. I asked if it was correct, and she said that the increase had taken place a few days before. I guess I’ll look for a new hairstylist who’s closer to my house. Losing your hairstylist is almost as bad as losing your purse.
Conversation with H
Bella: When you look at me, I think I’m beautiful. Then I look in the mirror.
H: Don’t look in the mirror.