The evening was meant to be spent watching a Netflix movie. We soon realized the ridiculousness of that plan, since we don’t actually have a working DVD player anymore, and neither of us brought our laptops home with us. On to plan B: laying about and thinking of creative Halloween costumes. This ended fifteen minutes later, predictably, with the decision that they were all too much work and I might as well just go as an astronaut again. Several more minutes passed as we listlessly watched the cat sniff out a foreign object on the mantle.

And then, seconds before my life descended into a vortex of banality, it hit me: I was going to get a haircut. From Sarah. This wasn’t entirely spontaneous; I had had the idea months earlier, and had procured a set of clippers from Luke. I never actually thought I’d go through with it. But here I was, and here the clippers were, and clearly the two were destined to meet.

I should say that before we went forward with the venture, I did do some research. Cursory Google searches for "how own haircut clippers" revealed nothing more than blog postings and catalogs of how-to vidoes on producing a salon-style cut at home. When I discovered on the first page of results this Defective Yeti post, I took that as conclusive proof that the Internet has got a ways to go.

I set myself up on the edge of the bathtub, handed the clippers to Sarah, crossed my fingers, said a little prayer to St. Flowbee, and told her to dig in. She was a little rough at first, but soon got the hang of it and settled into a nice groove.

It was hard to tell over the buzz of the clippers, but I’m pretty sure I detected a devilish, sadistic laugh eminating from my stylist. Strangely, the more shorn hairs that fell onto my shoulders, the calmer I got. In no time, Sarah was done, and I got up to see my new, simplified do:

Not too shabby, eh? I was impressed. My stylist got a substantial tip, and I made a follow-up appointment for two weeks hence.

Sarah was a good sport about the whole thing. It’s difficult to say, but I think she may have even enjoyed it…

Get down from there, you hairy beast