Another day, another bad haircut

My writing is moving along very nicely. So nicely in fact, that I decided to take a break and get a haircut. Oh, no, you're thinking. Oh yes. My dearest darlingest told me that it wasn't that bad, no, his mother had this haircut for as long as he can remember. Howling? Sackcloth and Ashes? No, not really. I sighed and submitted like a good Hotblood, knowing I can do nothing more, I accept my destiny as a bad hair case. Now I'm off to write something about someone with marvelous locks that swirl in the wind, that sweep over shoulders like a cape, that he can tangle his fingers in becoming intoxicated by that scent of wind tangled hair.