A Day Off

 

(It was a relaxing day.)

I woke up this morning at 11 a.m. and walked to the bathroom for a piss. Then I stepped out onto the patio a quick smoke. I only do generics these days. Why? I’m just not paying ten dollars for a pack of Marlboros. It seems outrageous to me.

Mom was sitting down and drinking coffee. “I’m taking Julius the dog for a haircut today.”

I took a heavy pull from my cigarette. “That’s ironic. I’m also going for a haircut.”

“How is that ironic?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I simply talk in an attempt to be sociable. To be honest, I could probably live the rest of my life without uttering a single word.”

She took a sip from her beverage. “There’s a hairdresser next to the HEB grocery store. It costs twenty bucks. That’s where I took Rice-Boy Larry last week. They did a good job. Ask for Julie.”

“I don’t need anyone special. I’m going to shave it all off.” I took another puff. “It should only take about five minutes.”

She made an irritating clucking sound with her mouth. “You have such beautiful hair. I have no idea why you’d want to be bald.”

“Don’t worry. It’ll grow back.”

Mom suddenly changed the subject. “Are you OK? Mentally, I mean. Are you still missing Korea?”

I shook my head. “Not really. In all sincerity, I don’t think I could actually do the teaching job these days. It wasn’t the easiest gig in the world, and unfortunately I’ve lost a step. I’m no longer the man I used to be.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re still on top of your game. You just need a little time to rest.”

“You could be right.”

But she’s not. In fact, I feel pretty fucked up. I think all the nonsense finally caught up with me. Mom had a stroke and kept begging me to come home. Nurse Ken refused to speak to me for nearly a year because I was living overseas. And my crazy wife drained my bank account and ran away. There’s only so much a man can take before his brain goes haywire.

Anyway, I drove my Hyundai Venue to the HEB parking lot and walked to the hair shop. I was greeted by a middle-aged woman who demanded my name and phone number. She then typed my info into a computer. It seemed rather intrusive just to get a clip, but I didn’t argue. Hell, I’m even required to punch in my zip code when purchasing gas. It’s simply the way things are done in America.

She led me to a barber chair and told me to have a seat. “You want a trim, or do you have something else in mind?”

“I need you to shave it off.”

“Really? Shave it all off?”

“Yes, please.”

She sighed heavily. “OK. You’re the boss. What guard do you want?”

“Guard? I’m not getting you.”

“It means how short do you want it?”

“I want it as short as possible.”

“That would be zero guard.”

“OK. That’s what I want. Zero guard.”

It only took her five minutes to get the job done. Then I gave her a five-dollar tip.

After that, I drove to the Dollar Store. I bought some ballpoint pens and a few bags of sunflower seeds. The whole experience was quite relaxing.

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