Shorn

This morning I looked into the mirror and slicked my hair back with my hands so that I looked bald, and thought, "I should shear my head." 

Fleeting thought.

Hours later I went to get a truckload of composted manure at a friend's. Her husband looked at me and said,

as if the fleeting thought was still visible above my head,

a cue for his part in the production:

"I should shear your head."

So I just had to let him.

Then he said, "You are pretty darn brave, Roach."

And we laughed.

And I felt good. I’d rather be considered brave than beautiful.

Later my boss said,

“What happened, did you get your head caught in a lawn mower?”

 

And I still feel good.