Not to Beat a Dead Horse

But it's freaking hot. Yes, that's the scientific term. It's too hot to run, walk to your car or even sit near a window.

Which led to last week's last minute decision to chop my hair off. Ok, it wasn't that long before, but I consider 4 inches a chop.

Excuse the cheesy picture, I sent it to Matt when he was out of town.

Of course he was jealous. That, or after a hot run on Saturday morning that involved stashing Gatorades along the route like a vagabond, a buzz cut seemed like the best idea ever. Rooftop, so there's no hair to clean up. Some birds lucked out big time for their nest.

It was a little stressful. You know, since I've never cut hair before. And it quickly got too dark to see.

Fortunately I had a trusty assistant.

Watch out buddy, you're next.....