As I was leaving the house...

...to get my hair cut, my lovely bride of 23 years called after me sweetly, "Do they have an express lane?"

Everyone's a comedian around here.

I sat down in the chair and my Assyrian-speaking barber asked me, "Is that number two still working for you?"

Lady, how many choices do I have?

"Yep. Number two will be just fine, thank you. I switch to number one in the summer."

She muttered something to herself in her native language. I'll bet it was,"Yes, sir!"

After a few short minutes (in which she mostly jabbered on the phone)--C'mon lady, I know this isn't rocket science, but I need you to focus!--she asked me about my sideburns.

Does it really matter?

"Uh, whatever you think is best..."

At the end of the cut, she offered to trim my eyebrows.

"Yes, please!" You see, when you get to be my age, you begin to lose hair from the place you most want it and you grow hair in places that you don't want it. I guess Mother Nature is funny that way. Also, by getting my eyebrows trimmed, it makes me feel like I'm getting some personal attention. Otherwise it would feel like the kind of haircuts they give at the Military Induction Center.

So I was in and out of there in ten minutes flat, hair looks great, and wouldn't you know it? My wife couldn't even tell that I had my hair cut!

"It looks like you don't have any hair..."

"Oh, I do, I do. I have a full head of lustrous, curly hair."

As Groucho Marx used to say, "Who are you going to believe, me or your own eyes?"