My big errand today was getting my hair cut. Really cut; it’s short now, and I’ll try to get before/after pictures up here tomorrow. I was brushing my teeth in the morning, and my hair was all around my neck and annoying, and I just decided to do it, since I had the day off. I went to a really gorgeous little salon near Porter Square, run by a statuesque Israeli woman named Maggie who has spiky white-blond hair and two enormous Alsatians lolling about on giant cushions next to the chairs inside — one of them was incongruously afraid of the thunder. The walls are bright yellow and covered with strange objets d’art and huge murals painted by Maggie’s daughter Tali; she’s apparently also responsible for one of the cows currently parading through the city, which I think is wonderfully neat.

My stylist Matt (who was frankly quite adorable, and I get to say that because Ross is a hottie and he knows it) wanted to know I was certain about cutting off all my locks (”Are you sure? It’s beautiful hair”), and I was indeed. He got to about chin-length and said, “I like it!” I said, “I like it too! But I think we can go a little shorter.” And so we did, and it’s very cute and light and, as always when I do this, it makes me feel like my head has been freed from all sorts of things: weight, memories, a too-heavy sense of self.

That’s that for now. Oh, except that my snake-handling days at the museum have been put on hold until all the volunteers go to a Harvard-wide animal training, due to new regulations.

Off to New Haven tomorrow — only one cool cat there now, but she’s worth the trip.