The Postscript: Marital privilege

I’ve been having my husband, Peter, cut my hair.

I’m not sure I would recommend this to everyone, but I have almost no hair. Actually, I have the usual number of hairs, but they are so fine that a hair that falls from my head into the sink is invisible to the naked eye. Peter cuts his own hair and kept insisting he could cut mine. I was waiting weeks to get an appointment with a stylist and, when I finally got in, pay an extraordinary amount per milligram of hair cut.

The haircut itself was something like a mime act. Neither the stylist nor I could see the hair before or after it was cut so sh...