So as it goes I am currently working a very minimum wage job at a very humbling company, this being a result of a series of events that I have come to know as 'Gods wilderness'. However that is not what this post is about, but I did need to inform you of this so that I may put emphasis on how utterly poor I am. (Not poor in grace, love, God or any other essentials, but poor referring to money.)
Ok now that this is established I can get more to the point of this excerpt. Since eight dollars an hour barely covers rent never mind getting teeth pulled, I have taken to cutting my own hair. Yes yes yes I know this is a horrendous thing to give up for the sake of a sturdy budget and should never be attempted by the female race; but it is saving me a ton of money every month for which I am grateful.
The first time I went to cut my hair I stood in horror as I watched myself in the mirror; the shaver slowly approaching the right side of my head, my hand trembling in fear as the terrifying buzzing noise became louder and louder (of which I am now sure is a marketing gimmick so that people such as myself never attempt to cut their own hair and always go to the barber.). One hour later I retreated from the hair laden bathroom to show my sister; and to our surprise I did not look like a refugee camp escapee as we had concluded prior to the experiment. Victory!
That was about three months ago now and I have since been not only a proud sponsor of the 'Cut your own hair club' but also a devoted member to the meetings held every second saturday. (There is obviously no such club and I will later think its funny if you thought that there was a possibility in its existence.) I have to admit I have been quite surprised in the consistency of the rather decent hair cuts that I have given myself; but we all know that the admittance and praise of such accomplishments can lead to the downright pride in knowing that you kick the proverbially butt at cutting your own hair. Which is exactly what happened to me.
It was a day like any other day; the sun was shinning, deer were frolicking in my yard as I watched out the window of my 4000 sq. ft. home. I had just put all twelve kids to bed and my loving wife was out sacrificing her own time to make the bacon... Ok so we all know this to be a complete lie, it was snowing and I seen a cat taking a dump on the lawn as I stared out of my sisters beautiful home. Aria in fact was sleeping, undoubtedly from tiring herself out from playing the drums all morning in 'Ucle Mikes' room. I don't have anything that even remotely resembles a wife and people don't get paid with bacon in this century. Either way no matter how the outside looked or how I was feeling, I decided that it was a good day to give myself one of those awesome hair cuts. Around 45 minutes after starting I was close to done; I took the guard, that was cautiously labeled #2, off of the clippers so that I could trim around my ears and square off the back of my head. As I stood with my left arm cocked behind my head holding a mirror and the right arm doing the same but with clippers, I found the spots that needed to be trimmed and began to think on every different angle of how to accomplish this without receiving a crooked line on the back of my head. (Which i have done before and it was a big 6th bowl of the apocalypse to fix.) As I was thinking and maneuvering the clippers the right side of my brain decided to kick in (you know the side filled with imaginations and fantasies) and it sounded a bit like this... exactly like this; " Man I can cut my own hair and make it look good, I am fricken cool. Like who else can just say that their gonna go cut their own hair and then do it. Pfftttt I am flippen awesome". Precisely at that moment when my ego, pride, selfishness, and level of tool bag were at their highest I noticed a small patch of hair on the upper half of the back of my head that I had missed with the clippers when I was using the #2 guard to ensure I didn't shave my head. Instinctively my thoughts then said "Oh missed a spot!" and I moved to fix the problem. Obviously the forgotten # 2 guard was not on the clippers due to the fact that I was trimming edges but out of pure reactionary impulse I dove in and chopped a line out of the back of my head.
Thank you Lord for teaching me humility please help me to understand this concept for the rest of my days.
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