No, I didn't get to spend time with Eartha, Lee Meriwether, Julie Newmar or Michelle Pfeiffer. Truth be told, I was rather scared and nervous especially since she was armed with numerous pairs of scissors . . . and a comb . . . and extremely long nails.
You see, I was attending my bi-monthly hair salon appointment. When you're as follicly challenged as I am, appointments with the barber are short, sweet, and quite infrequent. When I was in Rhode Island, I never had to worry about getting an appointment at the barber shop -- he could always find a spare 7 minutes to take care of me.
It's really weird, but for most of my life, I've only gone to two barbers. Until age 13, my hair was cut by Lou (once or twice by Don) at the Garden City Barber Shop. When that shop closed down, I switched to Dick of Van Dyke Hair Salon. No, he wasn't Dick Van Dyke but he did cut my hair up until August 2009.
Which brings me back to Cat Woman. The person who usually cuts my hair wasn't in so Cat Woman took over. She's a latina of a somewhat indeterminate age. Upon first glance, she appears entirely sane. And in the end, she did a fine job (although with so little hair to deal with, there was only so much damage she could do).
But what scared me, and why I call her Cat Woman, was the conversation she began as she stood behind me with a comb in one hand and a pair of scissors in the other. She began to regale me with tales of stray cats. She told me of the stray who hung outside her condo waiting for breakfast just a few hours earlier. Sounds innocent enough. Heck, as a cat lover myself, I might had done something similar.
When she told me her condo board told her she had to stop feeding the strays, I became a bit nervous. Especially when she told me she didn't see anything wrong with feeding 10 cats! She didn't care if the cats had fleas! She said it was better that these cats came to her rather than live on the streets. As she's telling me this (and cutting my hair, now with electric clippers in hand) all I can think about is those shows on Animal Planet with deranged people who have had their homes taken over by dozens of cats. Let me tell you, sanitary is never a word used to describe their homes.
For a moment, part of my brain felt sorry for her condo neighbors. And then I felt just a wee bit concerned for my own safety. Fortunately, she finished up (did a fine job) before she related any more tales of her feline induced dementia.
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