Had my hair cut.
I hate having my hair cut, not the actual cutting, but just the rigmarole of having to get it cut, trying to figure out how to tell the hair cutting person that you don't give a shit how it's cut as long as you don't have have to come back for another few months, and then in the hours, days and weeks afterwards people saying "Oh you got your hair cut?"
This was my first hair cut in London. It has been about seven months since it was last done, and the locks that fell into my lap were thoroughly riddled with grey hairs.
I'm not sure why, but it gives me this image in my head of holding back someone's head and stamping on their throat until they stop trying to sooth my fears about growing old alone.
It would only take two or three stamps to shut them up, unless I get carried away and just stomp and stomp and stomp until the head detaches from the body.
I've never done anything like that before so I don't know how much stamping it takes. Maybe there are special shoes you can buy.
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