Fun Times With Good O'l JPH
I'm in the period where I've badly needed a haircut for a fortnight, it's sprouting from my scalp like forced rhubarb, but I am resisting getting it cut. I do this every time. I don't know why. I quite like getting my hair cut. My barbers do a decent job. It's not too expensive (though the price has doubled since I first started going there). But I do this. I wait. And I'm still waiting. I think having no obligation to ever leave the house or see anyone but Susan might feed into my follicular complacency. But I'm doing a lot of work as a voluntary anchorite, the truest kind of "in cell", so my hairiness, like Samson's, is paying off. Expect productivity without selfies. Which is the opposite of most modern working practices.
