Tearing my hair out and getting it cut

It’s only once every three months, but the job takes hours, simple as it sounds. I write the rota for who reads the lesson, hands out the hymn books, makes the coffee etc each Sunday service. What would be easiest would be an invariable rolling programme; if it’s first Sunday I’m making coffee etc. This does work to some extent, but I have more willing people (isn’t that a good situation) than there are places, although not everyone wants to do the job every month, some people are willing to do whatever I ask them and some prefer to do a specific thing. Then I have to remember school holidays and who isn’t available then. I’m not really whingeing – well, okay, maybe I am, but I prefer to think I’m just explaining.

Job done. I printed out 20 copies and highlighted each person’s name on their copy. I made a list of names and how many times they were on duty. Added it up. 72. Counted how many duties. 73. I’ve gone through it three times and still can’t find whose name isn’t highlighted. And yes, I’ve added up names and duties several times too, I don’t trust my number skills either.

I had my hair cut yesterday. I went to the same hairdresser for years and then she took maternity leave and so another person took me over. Nice girl, married with two little boys; but her personal life became too complicated and I found out far more about her than I wanted to and, indeed, could see more than she knew she was telling me.
After some months of this I went on holiday just after Christmas and so didn’t make the usual appointment. My hair got longer for months as I kept putting off going back and hearing the lastest disaster.
Fortunately the salon was in another town and in the end I ventured into a new place. And was sat down and my hair discussed. Which hadn’t happened in years. So I finally got a more flattering hairstyle that is easy to look after and a cheerful hairdresser who doesn’t talk too much, or expect me to.
It costs more, but is certainly worth it.

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