Clay is an architect. When he leaves for work he wears beautifully pressed dress slacks and a crisp pinpoint collar shirt with a snazzy silk tie positioned perfectly in a double Windsor knot. He looks like a million bucks.
But, when he comes home, he sheds all that fancy-schmancy stuff and puts on his Country Clay. Ever since we've been doing the Damn Ramsey thing, Clay has insisted that I cut his hair. Mind you, that this is the same man that used to pay $60 on a haircut in a fine salon.....much to my annoyance.
Now, that I'm living with a man that doesn't want to spend once red cent on ANYTHING, he thinks I am the best haircut in town. A few days ago the weather was beautiful and Clay was taking a vacation day, so we headed out to the porch for a haircut and Clay made the profound statement, "Now, this is country living. Getting a haircut on the porch with three cats rubbing against my leg and a rooster tucked under a chair."
I don't think any of Clay's clients or employees would believe he gets his haircut on a porch with a rooster and three cats.