It starts off innocently enough. I'm practicing cello in front of a mirror (for technical reasons). I have a little glass of wine. Then I get distracted from playing because my hair looks stupid. I reach for the scissors and snip. Snip. Snip.
This same habit has been with me since I was little (the cutting of my hair, not the wine). Much like birds migrate annually, much like lemmings decide to see if they can bounce after a fall, I always managed to cut my hair right before school picture day. There are many pictures from growing up where I kinda tilted my head a little bit to the side to make my hair look straight.
So now I have some hair of varying lengths. And as I stared at myself in the mirror this morning, it crossed my mind that I should never have access to scissors, ever, because I keep doing stupid things like cutting my hair after a glass of wine. At least I've gotten better over the years cutting in a straight line. Sort of. If I kinda tip my head to the right a little. Sigh.
Moral of today's story: it's kinda self-evident, ERIN-DON'T CUT YOUR OWN HAIR!
An Erinku!
pink, plastic
kazoo
wrapped in
plastic
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