My Quarantine Haircut

I have “Covid#19” hair, a neglected mane. 

I called a friend of mine who is a professional hair-stylist to come over to trim my hair, color and apply blond highlight streaks. I left the side gate to my backyard open where she was to cut my hair on the patio, since she was not to come inside the house. She came over wearing face shield, glasses, plastic gloves, a paper coat covering, and her own clean towels. I immediately felt safe. 

My Covid hair was almost down to my shoulders, which had not happened since high school. And my premature gray was now matured to a point that it startled me. She had me wash my own hair before she arrived, since there is no sink out there. It was a mild evening with a refreshing breeze. We enjoyed a nice conversation as she applied the highlight color then wrapped it in aluminum foil, before she dyed the rest of my hair an auburn shade. 

As the evening progressed the light grew dimmer. The patio light was barely sufficient. I had never colored my own hair, so when she said she was leaving and it was up to me to remove the foil from sections of my hair -- but not too soon or the colors may bleed -- I was shocked. I had not even thought of that, before or after our visit. 

I came into the house to use the kitchen sink and, on second thought, what if the red dye gets on the counters or backsplash?

I decided to get into the shower instead. I was not sure what the right time would be to remove the foils. In my panic I had forgotten to set a timer. I sang several renditions of Happy Birthday before I removed the pieces of foil and looked in the mirror to find my blond hair looking a dull beige color, not blond. 

I was facing the shower nozzles when I turned the facets full blast and the dye chemicals immediately caused my eyes to burn. With blurry vision I saw blood-red water on the shower tiles flowing to the drain under my feet. In my head I heard the music score from the Alfred Hitchcock’s “Psycho” film.  I was freaked out!

I ran my hands through my hair and realized my hair was shorter than I imagined. I started to cry out loud. I heard my husband in the den adjacent to the bathroom where he was watching a war movie with a lot of machine gun noise full blast; I let out whaling cries that he did not hear. 

I used a washcloth to wipe my eyes. When I opened my eyes the water was crystal clear, no sign of the red color on the tiles. The water all around me was translucent. I don’t know how much time had passed before the metamorphoses. 

I pushed the shower door open and ran to the mirror. I was flabbergasted to see my auburn hair with blond highlights and my short haircut flattering.  The whole experience was a surreal mix of facts and assumptions, with me being the only eyewitness to the bizarre madcap.  

This is a story of a day in quarantine. For better or for worse we must all do our part, even if it tests our saneness. In the end we may discover some life lessons, or at least learn to laugh at ourselves.