Playing Hair

Okay. So I had just gotten Mother to bed and was sitting here spending a little time to myself when at 12:15 a.m. I heard Joe up and moving around. I put a curtain over the backdoor, which cut my nose off to spite my face, because now I can't check up on him by watching his reflection in the windows. I peeked in, and he was in the back bathroom/utility room sitting on a stool at the vanity. I couldn't tell exactly what he was doing, but he seemed okay, so I left him to it.

In a few minutes he came into the living room, slowly sat down on the sofa beside me, and started rubbing his hands through his hair. Then he looked up at me and began a long rambling conversation about "playing hair." He'd done it. The women had done it. He expected it was different with the women than the men. He got it started, and we needed to do it for a few days, and he was just telling me about it. The phrase he kept using was "playing hair."