My New Hairdo

Restful days for me are few and far between. Kids, powercuts all conspire to break my reverie.
yesterday I walk along to the salon for my haircut. I plunk myself into the chair, and that puts me into a state of heightened peace as I muse on the relative merits and demerits of bombing Iran. But that was not to be. In walks a doting father with his year old kid. Its time for the kids yearly haircut, one which the kid has no intention of completing in peace. For almost 30 minutes I had to endure that infant's protests. Iran tossed out of the window, in comes ways to control a bawling monster.

Oh what about my hair? Well I now look like Bodhisattva's 673rd follower.