Jeff started a new job on Monday. On Sunday morning he decided to trim his hair to make sure he looked tidy for the big day. Jeff usually cuts his hair himself with the aid of an adjustable hair trimmer, resulting in a style we refer to as “The Matt Lauer.”
I was still in bed Sunday morning when I heard Jeff calling me from the bathroom, “Honey? Honey? Bob get Mama, Daddy’s freaking out a little. I’m freaking out. Honey?”
I came into the bathroom and discovered this:
Jeff had attempted to do his hair and had forgotten to put on the trimmer attachment.
“Honey? Oh my God. It’s bad, right? Oh my God. I didn’t have coffee yet and I just wasn't thinking and Jesus you have to fix this. I’m freaking out. I think you can fix it, right? Maybe do a fade? It's not that bad, right?”
In the immediate crisis I was of no help because I was much too busy laughing until I couldn’t breathe. Also, I can trim neck hair but the “tapered fade” is not in my bag of tricks.
“I can’t fix that. You need a real barber.”
“It’s Sunday. Isn’t everything closed?”
I promised I would help, but first I tried to sell him on some new hairstyle ideas.
"The Kanye - I'm A Let You Finish":
Or perhaps "The Ron Artest" with the name of the new company shaved into his hair to show team spirit:
Once I had wiped the laughter-convulsion-tears from my eyes, I set about trying to fix things. While I was attempting a miracle, our dog wedged herself into our small bathroom and squeaked incessantly on a reindeer dog toy. Bob pulled up his new 18 wheeler and his mini-piano and played along. Jeff moaned and cursed a little under his breath. All of this combined to create optimal conditions for concentrating on the job at hand.
As I worked, my biggest fear is that I would leave my sweet, handsome, husband with "The Forrest Gump":
The finished hairstyle was passable and looked like this:
The best part about the new do is that it will have completely filled in by the end of the week. (And I got breakfast in bed and a blog post out of it.)
High five.
