Lottery

Yesterday was a beautiful day, with warm weather and cloudy skies. Jube and I took a walk through the park near our house. On our way home, Jube turned to me with a fait divers from that morning's newscast.

"You know someone around here won $150 million in the lottery! They're just waiting for him - or her, I guess - to come pick it up. On the news they interviewed some guy who said he was so happy for whoever won, like painting a picture of him - 'He's probably in debt, and this money will help him get out of this poor area' or whatever."

"That's interesting. You know, I've heard that winning the lottery can really mess up your life, like you lose all of your close relationships because of money."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard that too. It can definitely mess up your life for some people. But that wouldn't happen to me."

Economic Hardship

Everyone I know is talking about the economy. It's hard to find jobs, hard to keep jobs, money's not worth what it used to be, we can't buy what we want, more people are laid off, we're finding ways to save, etc. Luckily for Jube and me, we're doing okay. My job is pretty secure and we're not worried.

But all the advice about saving and not spending must have gotten to me, because when it came time for a trim of my bangs, I didn't want to shell out the $12 for a professional. Instead, I cut them myself. This was a few months ago, and I ended up with Amelie-style shortshortshort bangs. I also have a small forehead, so to have those Amelie-style bangs, I had to practically shear my bangs. They were only about an inch and a half long. Oops.

So for the next few months, I didn't have to cut my bangs at all! In fact, when I did go the salon for a trim I couldn't do myself (the back is still out of my range), the hairdresser scolded me. "These are much to short! Who cut them?" When I admitted that I had, she said, "Never do that again. Never!"

Just this past week, I realized that my bangs were curling at the ends and getting into my eyes. The rest of my hair looks good, though - just a trim of the bangs was needed. I still couldn't justify the price, but I remembered my promise never to do it myself again. So I called on my trusty sidekick, Jube. I prepped him: "Can you cut my hair for me?"

He let out a shocked laugh. "What? Cut your hair? What put that into your head?"

"Well, I don't want to pay for it."

"But I've never done it before!"

"That's okay. It can't be worse than what I did myself."

After a few more minutes of resistance, he reluctantly agreed to do it.

The next evening, after my shower, I pulled out the scissors. "Let's get it over with!" I cried. It was almost an adventure! I told him to cut it at about the level of my eyes, straight across. After making the first few cuts on the left, he followed the length along to the right.

"Done," he told me, looking pleased - until he stepped back and looked at the final product. "Oh no! How did that side end up so much longer than the other?" He cut some more, finally finishing a reasonably straight line.

"I don't know how they do it," he told me. "Cutting hair is hard!" But at least we did our part for our savings account.