Having taken the day off in anticipation of a full day of truck-loading, I decided to devote my lunchtime to getting a long-delayed haircut. I went to Bronxville and sat while Tommy finished up with his prior customer. Tommy was in a foul mood -- he was locking horns with the customer, and the mood was decidedly sour.

After the man left, it was my turn. Tommy explained to me that the previous customer was a very stubborn man. Had always been. And Tommy should know: he's been cutting the man's hair for the last 38 years.

I told him about my move and he told me about the two or three weeks he lived in Garfield Heights, Ohio, many years ago. We chatted. He clipped my thinning hair. I watched through the mirror as people walked up and down Pondfield Road.

Then, when Tommy was done cutting, he fumigated me with hair spray. I think he used an entire can. I stink of the stuff. I wouldn't be surprised if I have bugs stuck in it from walking to the Food Emporium. I'm taking a shower.