Paul and I were at the bank a few weeks ago, and of course, since the bank is in a... less than great neighborhood, I had to sit in the truch and babysit it, since, as those of you know, the starter... won't. 
Anyway, I was staring off into space and enjoying the AC, when I noticed an older woman wearing a red polo shirt and black slacks coming out of the bank. well, to be specific, I noticed her hair. It was in a half up... a light reddish brown with touches of gray at the temples... and the ends were swishing and swirling as she walked... swirling around her LOWER CALVES. I wanted to run after her and thank her for having such long, pretty hair, but A) didn't want her to think I'm nuts(which I am), and B) didn't want the truck to get stolen.

Paul was standing behind her in line, and gave me a full report - no visible damage, shiny, healthy, and fully ankle length.

So somewhere in the town I live in, is a woman with my dream hair. I only hope I can see her again, and praise her hair. I think though, that even if I never see her again, I'll always remember her hair.

maybe! although it's not our bank, we're constantly doing work for that customer/friend/competetor.. it's complicated, I guess, but we're there cashing checks every couple of weeks.