A couple of months after we met, Buzz bought me a nice pair of pyjamas for my birthday. At first, the zipper buzzed its way up and down like a smitten bee. A month later it groaned like a rusty escalator with fluttering bristles on its sides. As my hair grew longer and got caught and clogged, and hurt to untangle, it made me squeak like a mouse or hiss like a cat.
Buzz never looked away from his sports shows. “You should have your hair cut.”
I gave it some thought and then I bought myself new one-piece pyjamas.