Allergy

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I am reluctant to visit the local barber shop for various reasons, like its aambiaance, the apparatus, the crowd, the waiting line, the punishment of having to look at myself in the mirror for ten good minutes (there must be a way out...like watching Gajagamini instead in the mirror), the man-on-you-feeling, the irritating clicking sound of the scissors...there ought to be a silencer-attachment, the hair floating around...yesterday I read in the newspaper of 'hairbrained' schemes, the need to answer queries like: 'short?' or 'close?', and finally the totally transformed look at which Ishani gets frightened...

So, I always postpone the punishment till a day comes when I say: this far and no further...generally when strands of floating hair come in the way of my eyesight, poor as it is.

So, this morning I went in smiling and returned with the look of a 'de-feathered chicken' as my wife describes it. After a shampoo bath and nap I woke up with a terrific pain all over the face and rashes which was diagnosed as barber-shop-allergy. My son brought a Caladryl bottle, the look of whose contents recalled my long-last Chemistry Lab days...the two dreadful years did seem to last long...flame test always gave sodium.

Just woke up...it is past midnight...and recalled Ogden Nash:

There was a young lady from Nachez
whose clothing was always in patches.
When she was asked why,
she replied, with a sigh,
“Because, when Ah itches, Ah scratches.”

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