As my old friend Jeff always says, “Great minds think alike… And so do we.”
When we at The Dew Abode made a point of purging stuff we don’t need or actively use, we had no idea that our counter-coastal friends at Root Simple were going to do the same thing. We called our effort The Great Purge, and it was inspired by Jenn’s reading of a poignant passage from “Art As Therapy,” by Alain de Botton and John Armstrong. Root Simple’s idea came from Marie Kondo’s “The Life Changing Magic of Cleaning Up.”
They had the better name for their effort — Everything Must Go! — and we soon adopted that as a catchphrase in our house, when pondering a tough decision, such as:
BRAD: Do we really need two coffee pots, when all we ever use is the French press?
JENN: Everything must go!
Or, more realistically:
JENN: Do you really need two mid-century manual typewriters?
JENN: We don’t actually write on them.
JENN: Everything must go!*
We’ve gotten rid of most everything we could. But we’re continuing The Great Purge (2016 edition!) by simplifying our lives in other ways. More on that at a later date, but for now, suffice it to say that we’ll be trying an experiment to see just how little money we can live on and maintain comfort and happiness, and the company of good friends (which, admittedly, might be in jeopardy if we start only bringing carbonated water to parties).
So this has all been a long way around to getting to the point.
The point is, I’ve decided to try cutting my own hair. Because, well, Everything Must Go! includes those damn bangs that were starting to hang down in my face. And because, gender biases aside, I’m glad I’m a dude and we can get away with short hair, all of one length, which is fairly easy to achieve with a beard trimmer and the right attachment.
I’d been threatening to do this for a week or so. I think Jenn was more nervous than I was, especially after I texted her this picture when she was out:
I’d stationed myself in front of the mirror, all Harrison-Ford-in-“The-Fugitive”-style, with scissors and trimmer and got to work. You know what, I told myself, hair grows back. If it’s awful, I can fully embrace that proto-hipster thing I have going and just wear more hats.
OK, drum roll, please….
It doesn’t look half-bad, right? That’s the big pro.
The con: I didn’t exactly zip out to the barber a lot. That same guy Jeff also says, “Brad gets a haircut twice a year, whether he needs it or not.” That’s hyperbole, of course. But I figure if this plan sticks, I can save a couple hundred dollars a year.
We’ll see, I guess, whether it pans out or was just a
hare-brained hair-brained idea.
* In the interest of full disclosure, selling the typewriters was actually my idea. And we sold them both — a Remington Rand from 1942 and a Hermes 3000 from 1959 — to get them out of the dusty abode and into hands of people who might actually use them.