Today I went to the local barbershop... my bathtub. I went inside my bathtub.
On a cheap plastic chair provided by the school, I sat as still as I could while Ally took our clippers (with guard #3 attached) straight to my head. It's not the first time she's acted as my barber, and it probably won't be the last.
With dedicated precision and a mediocre pair of scissors, she trimmed around my ears until she was satisfied with her work. She honestly cared more about how my hair looked than I did, but then again, I wasn't complaining.
The downfall of an in-house barbershop? We're left with piles of hair both in the bathtub and out of it, not to mention the clumps stuck to/in our clothing, and the stragglers that seem to float in a nonexistent breeze across our apartment. Despite the dedicated effort to clean up every remaining hair (with credit due to Ally, the cleanest and best roommate ever), there will surely be hairs stuck to our bathtub for a good couple of weeks, right on schedule with our next hair appointment.
