Time For A Change

So today went like this:

I was ready for a hair freshening. I hadn't had it cut or highlighted (darn those roots!) since April, and it was all really getting to be too much. I had ripped a new hairdo picture out of a magazine to take with me - a short do. I decided it was time to call the salon and get the ball rolling.

I called my regular place and asked if I could get an appointment with Allison, the girl who has been doing my hair for the past few years. The lady who answered said that Allison didn't work at that salon, but at the Brentwood branch, and gave me the phone number. I called, asked for an appointment, and got one in thirty minutes. I thought this was great, since I was ready for some hair-doin' action.

I got in my car and drove to my regular salon, thinking I just had called the wrong number. I walked in the door, told the receptionist my name, and she said, "So?" She then informed me that nobody works at that branch on Mondays, and there is no Allison that works there, but there is one that works at Brentwood. So I went to the Brentwood branch and met Allison who is not the Allison I was thinking of.

I showed her my magazine picture which she thought would look cute (just what I want to be at 51), she and the other hairstylist discussed color, and off we went. She colored and dried and washed and colored some more and dried and washed some more, and then got out the big scissors and cut it all off. We all voted that it looked good, and everybody was happy.

The point of this narrative is point out a few things. I was ready for a short haircut, which my usual hairstylist won't do. I was in the mood to get it cut immediately, and got one in thirty minutes. The new salon is much closer to my house. I think it was time for a change, so God once again made it clear for me. I got to meet Allison who is fun and sweet, and now has a new regular.

By the way, the original hair stylist? Her name is Emily, not Allison. Go figure.