Last year when the first wave of lockdowns subsided, like many of my fellow Americans, I ventured into town to one of the national chain shops for a haircut. I was dissatisfied with the experience. I still had to wear a mask, and had to hold the mask to my face after removing the loops so the scissor-wielding maniac could trim around my ears. I decided then and there, NEVER AGAIN! No more haircuts until I can walk in with a naked face!
So, long story short, I started just letting my hair grow. It's easier than keeping a houseplant alive, so as hobbies go, it's extremely low-effort. Shampoo use has increased, of course, but an unforeseen complication has arisen.
A lot of our library patrons are older women, and my present hippie locks seem to really get their attention. I am closer to middle-age than teen-age, but apparently my shaggy head and devil-may-care attitude (both within library etiquette limits, of course) seems to get me a lot of approving comments from the senior citizen crowd. You might even say...
They're checking me out!
I'll be going now.