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.