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November 27, 2006
Phyllis props primly on the sofa's edge and breathlessly recounts the details of her busy weekend. It's 10:00 Monday morning, my first session for the week, and the caffeine I quaffed 15 minutes earlier hasn't had a chance to work its magic.

"So, you scooped some hair off the salon floor after your haircut on Saturday," I say. "Then what?"

"Well, naturally, I couldn't wait to get home," she says. "So I could do this." She thinks nothing of unbuttoning her blouse to the waist and showing me bits of hair glued to her bony sternum.

And it's only Monday.