Search for a Hairdresser

I had a lead on a hairdresser for curly hair.  Something about his outgoing message made me think he might have had a magic mushroom or two in his time.  Before I had a chance to object, he gave me a consultation for 11:00 a.m. the next day.  Whoa.  I don't usually do anything before 3:00.   I had to get there 25 minutes early to get a parking place because you can't find a parking space in this area at lunchtime. No breakfast.  Still, I got all my products together and did everything I needed to do to prepare for the appointment.  He's a beautiful man.  Looks like the cover of a romance novel with long flowing black curly hair and chiseled features.  It became clear, however, that there are some fried synaspses.  He seems pretty wedded to his products, too.  I have to use my own.  Sadly it was not to be.  I could not get out of there without telling him I wasn't going to hire him because we had talked about him buying a special comb for my hair at my expense.  I couldn't let him do that.  I felt bad.  It's best I don't get my hair done by someone who is dropping and forgetting things and wants to use allergic products.  Too bad I won't have a beautiful man running his hands through my hair.  Me and my two inch roots are back on the street.

There was a Pancake House* nearby so I went there.  It wasn't bad.  Then I went out into the searing noonday sun. I drove to a suburb to the library.  It wasn't open until 1:00.  Ugh. I just chilled in my car in some shade.  There were at least seven people lined up to get into the library.  Not all of them were sane.  I made sure I snagged a computer. I would say that this library is not quite air conditioned.  They wouldn't want poor people to feel crisp and purposeful.  We might get airs.  Well, here I am, as much as you can be in sickly air conditioning.

*names have been changed.