My Father-in-Law Gets a Hair Cut

   

  Last night I had the most ridiculous dream about my father-in-law.  

    To fully appreciate it, you need to understand a couple of things about him.  First of all, he's stoic and opposed to change or spontaneity.  He never travels.  He's pretty much agoraphobic, and he believes he is always right about everything:  to the point of having a well-developed martyr complex.  Growing up, he never took his kids fishing, he thought education was for lazy people and all he needed to teach his kids was a trade.  Playtime was a waste of time and my husband had a well-developed case of arthritis by the time he was in his early twenties. Coincidence I think not.  Leaving home was the hardest thing he ever did, in the sense that daddy dearest wasn't pleased.  Nor was he particularly happy about any of his subsequent choices.  In fact, to this day, he highly disapproves of almost everything my husband does.  It's pretty much a full-time job.  

    Now, for the good stuff.  

    Last night I dreamed my father-in-law had let his hair go.  He pretty much had an afro.  In real time, he was at the barber's sitting in the barber chair with a black tarp around his neck getting ready for a new look.

    The barber walks around, studies him from different angles and thinks quietly.  Finally, he leans down and speaks in a most conspiratorial voice.  

    "I can fit a lot of dachshunds on your head."

    My father-in-law casually replies,  "You may fit as many dachshunds on my head as you like."