Fall

It's beginning to feel a lot like Fall. I wear a jacket all day and my little ankles are cold. I'll soon be hauling out the panty hose. I hate how my feet smell after wearing those. But what's a girl to do? I also need a haircut and, ahem, a color enhancement. Ever so slight, of course.
Being the cheap skate that I am, it's L'Oreal or the other one. All for less than 10 smackers.
Seeing as I have come down from my ivory tower and abandoned my stylist of 15 years, Peter, for the generic who-so-ever-is-available at the local Vietnamese salon, I will waltz in after work one of these evenings. There's one guy barber who actually gives a crap. I find myself asking,"Are you done yet." I don't ask out loud. He seems to be meticulous with the scissors, and he doesn't engage in conversation with the stylist next to him as some of the ladies usually do, which I find intensely annoying. It's not the fact that these conversations are all in Cantonese, it is that I don't feel as if my hair has their full attention. If I say anything, will their razor suddenly slip? Still, what do I expect for $12?