Saving Money, My Foot!

I like saving money. So I try to save money by doing things myself instead of paying someone else to do it. Specifically hair cuts. Plus, my mom was a hair dresser so I can usually employ her expertise when I need to. 

Until the other day.

Background.... several weeks ago, Alex had decided to give himself a haircut and being the confident and capable young man that he is, he went right to town. The scissors and proper identification of trademark-Alex-hair-color hairs found behind the recliner one afternoon, were a significant indication as to the disaster success that happened just above his forehead.

He had a very original hair style complete with the messy-gelled-look to cover up any possible unevenness. That worked for a few weeks but then he was getting too shaggy overall (sans the section just above his forehead) so I decided to pull out my clippers and go to work.

So there in my kitchen I evenly mowed off his hair until he was a nice looking boy again.

This may seem normal and harmless and not worth blogging about but there's more to the story.

As is the nature of hair that is cut, it falls to the floor. But of course, you already know this -- everybody knows this. To expect anything different would be strange, I know. But the fact that the hair fell to the floor is what makes this post so worth writing about because if it hadn't fallen to the floor, I would not be writing this random post about a hair cut: I'd be writing about my success at defying gravity.

And of course, once the hair cut was over, I swept the floor thoroughly but I was barefoot while cutting his hair and while sweeping the floor so obviously, I walked on a strand or two of hair. But that's okay: it was a free haircut so it's all worth it, right?

Plus, to expect anything different than walking on hair that fell to the floor while you gave your son a free hair cut would be strange, I know. But it all plays into this there's-a-hole-in-the-bucket-dear-'Liza-concept story here folks.

Fast forward to the next day when we left on a weekend trip and spent the day at the zoo walking and walking and standing and walking some more.

That night, after getting to the hotel and kicking off my shoes, I noticed that I kept getting this annoying sliver feeling in my foot. It was so annoying I finally sat down and went on a sliver hunt right then and there in the hotel room.

Bear in mind, I have no sliver hunting tools with me (pin, tweezers, magnifying glass, shovel, knife, chain saw, search light, pitch fork, etc.) and I was almost a little leery finding anything because even if I did find it, I wouldn't be able to dispose of it properly. So if there was a sliver, he'd just sit there and grin at me and make fun of me and say mean words like, "Na-Na-Na-boo-boo, you can't get me!" and I'd have to listen to that all weekend. Which would be highly annoying.

So there I am on this hotel bed with a husband on one side trying to watch TV (television) and 27 small rabid children bouncing on the other side of the bed trying to watch TM (their mom). Like, if mom is interested in something then we are too and heaven forbid we should miss out on anything even as much as a sliver.

Oops... Did I say rabid children? Because I meant to say rapid.... You know, like moving around quickly fastish-like. But they may as well have been 27 rabid children based on the stress inducing situation they were causing. Right there on the bed. While I sat in an advanced yoga pose with the bottom of my foot touching my chin and my knees in an unmentionable position in order to support my torso and keep my hips from dislocating.

Between bounces and earth shattering movements, my eye caught something on my foot. And then I saw it: a hair. A stupid, nasty and probably even rabid, hair. Not like a rabbit hare but like a human hair. Just sitting there, not rapid at all. So yeah. It was probably rabid, come to think of it.

It was a short, Alex-hair-cut-size hair. And it was on my foot in a very stuck way. As if it was coming from inside my foot, it was that stuck.

So I looked closer, moving the sole of my foot up to the tip of my nose where I stared intently at it with crossed eyes (and please don't forget the 27 rabid rapid children that were still on the bed bouncing and staring too) while I expertly advanced my yoga skills even further.

I used my super sonic surgical suction system index finger tip and thumb tip and extracted efficiently with an enormous enigmatic explosion yanked out a very poky Alex hair from the sole of my non-tender, super rough and calloused foot.

And there it was, all 3/8ths-of-an-inch of hair out of my foot. In the palm of my hand. While I did yoga in a bouncing hotel bed. With 27 rabid rapid children surrounding me. On vacation.

As if I couldn't think of anything better to do than an Olympic level yoga performance, right there in a hotel bed with 27 rabid rapid children, all because I seriously needed to begin an immediate rapid hair loss program on the bottom of my foot (this link directly explains that the bottom of the foot is supposed to be hairless) due to the fact I walked bare foot on hair I had cut from my son's head in order to save money.

Ouch.

I'm thinking that next time, I'll save my sanity foot; not money.