tales of retirement

So no one is reading the blog, but I shall persist. So instead of Emails, I shall regale whoever is interested on this blog site on the wonders of life with a retired Gordon.
First day of retirement:
Gordon announced that he needed a hair cut. I didn't feel like cutting his hair since I had spent a few days refinishing a piece of furniture, so since I needed my hair cut too, I suggested naughtily that we go to a shop and pay for the service.
We held hands and giggled like school girls as we walzed into a SuperCuts. Not chic I know but for us who are used to DIY style we were feeling a little giddy. We even planned on going out to lunch after.
So the young Asian man who cut my hair was short. This is important to tell you because that put him even with my face which was a problem because he had atrocious breath. He was also extremely friendly, which is important because he wanted to chat. Even though he was of some Asian dissent that was no excuse for what happened, because he was American thru and thru so there was no language barrier. But when I told him that I wanted an inch off all over, he heard, I want an inch left all over. He held my hair up and said that to him this is an inch. I looked at what was sticking out past his fingers while he was looking at what was under his fingers and whatever I said indictated that I wanted it even shorter than that. Anyway after the first few cuts, I realized to my horror what was happening and that it was too late to turn back so, too cover my dismay, and to not make HIM feel bad, I became most charming and amusing.
So every time I said something which must have been brillant he got close to my face and laughed. Well I'm not too stupid, and the sane adult person that lives inside my head told me to shut up and just get this over with, but the motor mouth knows no controls so it just rattled on causing more close in encounters, loud laughter and personal conversation. The torture continued endlessly because there was no one waiting and Gordon wasn't done yet so he fussed and cut and guffawed into my face. Then he finger combed what was left of my wet hair straight back, gave me coupons and begged me to come back soon. . .as if I would need another hair cut this decade. I left looking like an old lesbian. (I don't care if that is PC or not, I've seen the wedding pictures in the news papers, and I recognize the look.)
Now I digress for a moment in the story to say that a few days before I had asked Gordon how I looked as we were going in somewhere where it counted, and he gave me the perfunctory husband answer of "Fine dear" and I stopped and explained that since he is now retired and we will be spending a lot more time together that the rules are changed and he is obligated to look at me and answer honestly that my hair is flat or sticking up funny. He is my new best friend and I need to trust him. So as we walked out of the hair chop shop, I asked how he liked my new hair do and he looked at me seriously and said sadly and with trepedation "It's OK, It's not bad, It will grow." (This interestingly enough is the exact same thing that my old best friend Lynette said.) So we didn't go to lunch, we went home and ate leftovers and hid out. That was the first day. Retirement not looking so rosy so far. Except for the sun burn I got on top of my head from swimming with my new hairdoo.