A Trio of Ironies

A longtime pal called the other day. K complained about the overly chatty guy at her hair salon. Funny enough, I could not get a word in edgewise. But she needed to vent and I try to be a compassionate listener.

It's no chore. And I cannot complain. K's parents, who always treated me like another child, continue declining health-wise.

My friend also shared an anecdote. Her youngest daughter S is working toward a hairstyling license yet fears cutting peoples' hair. This fundamental service seems to me as way simpler than the science of hair dyes.

~shrugs~

While it seems unrelated, I have seen this aspiring young hairstylist's childhood bedroom strewn with discarded candy wrappers and dirty snack plates. Her unrepentant sloppy nature is legendary among family and friends.

Therein lies another paradox as S complained to her mother about assistants leaving messy countertops. Even with it being a place of business, the incongruous statement left her mother speechless.

Hearing this and K reiterating her taciturn responsive "Huh", I laughed until tears squirted. Poor young S has probably been told my reaction.

Do you know the rather morbid story behind the iconic barber's pole? Isn't it amazing that veterinarians historically treated humans, and would you agree it's likely a great option in dire circumstances?

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