And it wasn't even my own domicile. Some backstory first, to set the scene. My hairdresser operates out of her house, specifically out of her basement. When I walked into the house, there was a certain je ne sais quois in the air. Her husband was sitting in the kitchen, looking both grim and downcast. We went downstairs to her studio. With a face that looked like thunder, she seized a huge hank of hair from the left side of my face and hacked off a huge piece of it. It was about an inch and a half long, and she continued to hack away at it. She then proceeded to do the same thing on the other side. I couldn't see what she was doing on top of my head, but when she was done it felt like a three day growth of stubble. Yuck. I truly didn't recognize myself. It turns out, dear reader, that she and her husband had had a quarrel.