He says that every morning, and he makes me feel stupid since he is so sure of himself, so eloquent. Then he seems to forget about barbers for a moment, and he tries to will himself out of bed to work, but I love him, and it hurts to see him go, so I grab his shoulder near the neck, and he falls down to bed again, he is so full of sleep still. Again he starts thinking of barbers, he cannot help it, his thoughts have been warped by the dream. I am smiling because I see he isn't and know he won't be. I don't trust barbers.
Men are so funny, so stubborn.
Onions to peel. I tell him. I am laughing, because now is the decisive moment. They think faces are beards. I mean they see a head, and it looks like a soccer ball, so maybe they mistake it and kick it, or like a baseball .