Haircuts are mind-clearing events for me, and I look forward to them and get anxious if I don’t get one for too long. My recent romanticization of barbarian lifestyles doesn’t stretch to enjoying facial hair or over-long head hair, though I did sport a moustache for a few years (going with the flow of default hair culture in India). And in case you were wondering: yes, barber and barbarian are etymologically related. All through yesterday I had a nagging sense that I needed a haircut, both because it was approximately the right time and also because my mug is going to be in pictures and videos quite a bit. I almost went out of my way to go to my regular place in the DC area. Then it struck me that I had unconsciously been associating “haircut” with home, and that I didn’t need to add more to an already-packed day.
Today is a low-tempo day. I had only one meeting planned, lunch with reader Ilya Lehrman in Philapdelphia at 1 PM. I’d planned to drive around the waterfront areas, but the rain made me change my mind. So instead of waterfront stuff, I got my haircut at a random Supercuts.