We’ve got UNRULINESS, blogfriends. Right here in Barbershop City. We’ve got UNRULINESS. In the middle that's a capital L. That rhymes with not-heaven. And that stands for Little Barbershop of Horrors. We’ve surely got UNRULINESS. Right here in Barbershop City. Right here! Gotta figure out a way to close down that future den of iniquity!
Oh, dear. Where to start. Hick has been working night and day…well…evening and weekend day…on his precious barbershop. I have fresh pictures, but you'll have to wait until tomorrow for them. Because right now, you must hear of Hick's latest barbershop adventure.
When we last convened, Hick had painted the front wall red and set up a mantel with no fireplace, a mantel dotted with St. Louis Cardinal memorabilia. That left him three bare walls to contend with. But in Hick's mind, that was only three walls left to decorate with man-things for my barbershop. So he got to furnishing his newest labor of love.
Last week, Hick came stomping in the front door at quitting time. Oh, not quitting time after work at his day job, which he should be keeping, I tell him, rather than thinking we can exist on the proceeds of his pipe dream. No. It was quitting time from decorating his barbershop.
Hick was agitated that day, my friends. Agitated, like a hipster doofus in a dented motorcycle helmet after an encounter on the street with the former boyfriend of a gal with a big wall of hair and a face like a frying pan, Crazy Joe Davola, the Pagliacci fan, dressed as the tragic clown.
"My barbershop is full of them! Ladybugs! All over the place! There must be five thousand of them! They're down my collar, up my sleeves, in my hair...all over me!"
So of course he came straight into the house to virtually shake himself like a wet dog, spraying ladybugs throughout our homestead. At least that's what I pictured upon hearing his lamentations from my dark basement lair. That's the last thing we need. An infestation of ladybugs to rival those in my mom's drop ceiling, which don't seem to bother her, since they go back into their hideaway after crawling around on the walls and windows all day.
So far, I've only seen one, near the ceiling, on the master bathroom wall by the shower. If only Hick hadn't chopped up those mice in the ceiling light vent fan, they might have eaten any ladybugs that get in the attic. Nah. That's just wishful thinking. Mice don't eat ladybugs. And of course Hick is going to chop up every mouse he gets a chance to behead in a bathroom ceiling light vent fan.
I find a certain symmetry in the fact that five thousand LADYbugs invaded the MANcave barbershop that Hick is decorating.