Samson I am not

I got my hair cut today, for the first time in about four months. (I have a good excuse this time - letting it grow long so I could put it up at the wedding.) The lady who cut my hair was horrified at its state. She asked me where I last got it cut ("Here," I replied). She showed me how the lengths were horribly different, when they should have been pretty uniform. Hrm, I thought, that might explain why I had to do my own trimming when I got home, to eliminate the quasi rat-tail the previous stylist had left. Anyways, she cut my hair with more care than her colleague, and I'm pretty pleased. Unfortunately, I have had no noticeable additions or subtractions from my powers. I tried talking to the cat but she showed no more sign of understanding than before. (Yesterday she kept pawing at the kitchen cabinets, opening them two inches before they'd fall shut again. At one point she tried to open the doors at the hinges, and got mad at me when I tried to explain how that wouldn't work.) I also have yet to weave straw into gold, but I guess in all fairness, I didn't really try. Maybe I shouldn't give up so easily. I'll let you know how my effort to psychic-ly influence my husband works out. ("Stop eating meat ... Surprise me with a weekend in Paris ... Cut your hair ...")