There’s hair in my wine

The best customer service I have had so far in 2009 is my hairdresser. Instead of the customary espresso (which in itself is a reason to go back), she asked me if I wanted a glass of wine. It was 2 pm on a Thursday, but what the hell. I did.

To be fair, it is unpractical to drink anything while you’re having your hair cut. You’re supposed to sit still so they don’t accidentally take your ear off, so you end up sitting there looking at your drink and wishing you had 40-centimeter-longer arms. Or a really long straw. And when you do brave a lean-forward to reach it, you tilt your head forward and inevitably drop some cuttings into the fluid.

Not that any of this matters, and that’s the sweet part. I love the fact that I am offered a drink at the hair salon. Especially wine. Period. Must work out a way to repay the favor, or doesn’t it translate to editing?