I forced myself to head to the barbershop this morning. I was way overdue. But I was reluctant to hop up into the barber’s chair and face Carol’s music. You see I had strayed.

I need a haircut about every two weeks to stay decent looking. At three weeks I look mangy and unkept and anything past that makes me eligible for a mug shot with “wanted” printed at the bottom of the page.

About six weeks ago I was past due on my haircut but that fact had yet to register. It was after quitting time when the mirror in the men’s room said “no sale” as I stared at my reflection. But a business meeting the following morning at 9 a.m. demanded I take action. In the phone book I found a barber shop open till 9 p.m. A half hour later I was assigned to Dave’s station where I took a seat and solved the problem.

Except, that, right at the end “Dave” without consultation with his brand new customer announced, “I’m going to do the back just a little different.”

I didn’t know what different was going to look like, but I knew what it meant to me: “Carol will know.” At that moment the seeds for confrontation were sown. Fast forward to today.

“Hey Carol.”

“Hmmmm,” Carol said, tapping her fingers on the nape of my neck as I remarked how cold it had turned.

“Well, hmmmm,” she purred as she spun the barber chair around giving me a gratuitous swirl round the room. Then, nothing more was said or hmmmmed, and there we were, Carol and me, back on track, hair cut, awkwardness gone, enough said, or unsaid.

Sometimes things just don’t need saying.

Sometimes things just get said.

I’ve been trying to cut out some of the evening snacking I’m famous for. It’s not easy. Actually, it is easy, I just cheat and make excuses.

Sunday night the object of my affection was a big bag of kettle corn - popcorn with sugar sprinkled on it. Now maybe it was the combination of sweet and salt that drove me to excess. Or maybe it was the bone chilling cold we had endured outside all afternoon that drove me to seek comfort.

I really don’t know.

What I know is that my wife got a hand full or two of the treat - and I got the rest.

Now I should say for full disclosure that she had been engrossed in a Sudoku puzzle, thereby distracted from the serious munching I engaged as we sat together watching a thrilling episode of “Desperate Housewives.” So one can only imagine her surprise when she leaned over to grab what should have been her third handful of popcorn, well, the once big fluffy bag was...empty.

In unbelief my wife tilted the reading lamp towards the bag, straightened her reading glasses on the bridge of her nose and proceeded to carefully read the fine print on the back of the bag where nutritional information is disclosed.

She studied the information, processed the facts. The room grew terribly silent.

Then she cleared her throat.

“You have just consumed 11 servings of this.” She smoothed the now flattened bag pulling at opposite corners of the empty, lifeless container and holding it high in the air to emphasize that which was no longer.

Sometimes things get said that don’t need to be said.