I know it’s time to get my hair cut because my hair turns into this shaggy and unruffled attitude that makes me look like someone set off a small tunneling detonation inside a guinea pig. Then my hair catches any gusts of wind, and billows up into this enormous shaggy cloud. Then the wind picks up, and the hair cloud catches enough air that it lifts me up and I go drifting into a nearby municipality.

It used to be worse. I lost a lot of weight a couple years ago, so back before then my hair had to get much longer to lift me off the ground. People in Piscataway, New Jersey, would call in reporting this strange man-sized figure with a puff of shaggy hair a dozen feet in diameter drifting in the air, and the police wouldn’t believe them, because they knew full well I’d gone to graduate school and was drifting over Hoosick Falls, New York, by then.