We had one of those special times a week or so ago. Bridget went to my mother-in-law’s for a few days of spoiling so Maria and I had lots of free time to ourselves.

We totally took advantage of this. We went out to eat a couple of times. We went to see a movie. Basically, we had a very brief practice run for when we have an empty nest.

So naturally, I tried to wring every ounce of fun out of the time. The way the arrangements worked out, I had to get to York by 1 p.m. on a Saturday in order to pick up Bridget. Maria worked that day so I had a few hours to myself.

As I looked in the mirror Saturday morning, I knew I had a couple of options. One, of course, was to stay at home and do nothing productive until I had to hop in the car. The other option stared right back at me from the mirror. I needed a haircut.

Well, I thought I did. I had not had one in a while, and things had started to get a little out of control. Saturday morning seemed like a good time to get a haircut, but sitting on the couch catching up on episodes of “Hawaii Five-O” I recorded almost two months ago also sounded appealing.

So I followed the most important lesson I have learned in a decade and a half of marriage: I asked her how my hair looked. She said I could wait a week, so the unruly mop on my head got a reprieve.

I don’t really mind because I don’t have too much vanity in that area. A small part of me wishes I did, but I just don’t.  I confirmed this last week when some of my Internet friends and I ended up discussing haircuts.

I keep things simple. I go to a chain where they have a record of what I like so any available stylist can handle the job. I get in and out as quickly as possible with for under $20. No shampoo, no product, nothing. I run my fingers through my hair in the parking lot outside, then go home and wash my hands to clean off the stray pieces.

But some of my friends go for fancy haircuts. They go to places where you get something to drink with your appointment. They get their hair washed before AND after the cut. They engage in more than basic small talk with the stylist.

They also pay more money and care what they look like. That’s where we differ. Well, I do care what I look like. I just don’t think paying any more money for a haircut is really going to make a difference in the end result.

I want a simple haircut I don’t have to worry about. I want to comb it without gels or pastes in the morning. I want to wait an extra week before getting it cut because I’m lazy. Those “Hawaii Five-O” episodes aren’t going to watch themselves.