The things to do today

The weekend.  Forget going hiking or taking a bicycle ride.  There are things to do.

The list so far:

1. Wait for the guys painting the living room to return to finish the work they began yesterday.

2. Rent a self-storage place (more on that later)

3.  Sign the paperwork with the realtor to put the house on the market.

4. Clean out some more.

5. Cut back the rose bushes so prospective buyers don’t have their eyes put out.

6. Fill out the paperwork for New Job.

7. Break the news to my hairdresser.

The last item is the hardest.  I’ve been getting my hair cut by this guy for over 25 years.  He knows the weird way the waves start to appear at the 3-inch mark, and the way it curls when it gets longer.  He has helped me grow it long and, when I need a drastic change, cut it down practically to a buzz cut.  About 15 years ago, we decided I didn’t have to give in to my early-onset Irish graying and began to color it.  I almost never tell him how to cut it, or how to alter the shade to fit the season, because his judgement is so much better than mine. 

How will I find a stylist like  that in Alabama?  Will he give me the color recipe?  Will they follow it?  Will I wind up with a bouffant?

Losing Jimmy is more than losing a stylist.  This is a quarter-century relationship.  We’ve both lost parents during that time, weathered illnesses, had major life changes.  We’ve attended parties together, and broken bread together.  He’s come to my house to make homemade pizza.  He’s one of many friends I’ll be leaving.  I dread telling him, especially since, now that I have short hair, he counts on me as a client who comes in every 4 weeks.

Telling friends is hard because it presents emotional issues which I’m trying to keep at bay right now.  I know this is going to be a really hard move at times, but I’ve got too much to do right now.  So I’m putting those emotions in a box and putting it on a shelf.  I’ll take it down when I must — or when the box grows too weighty and falls down on my head.


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