Thursday, August 21, 2008

The one Hundred and Fifty (+) Dollar Haircut.

Okay, the truth will set you free so here goes.

I don't get my haircut but once or twice or maybe three times a year. Now, there was a time, before kids, while I was working full time that I did go every six weeks like clockwork. It just doesn't happen anymore. Partly because I can't find the time, partly because I don't have the money, partly because I only know one person who can tame the mane. She thins the heck out of my horse hair. It feels weird and selfish to complain, again, about something that only a couple of years ago I was losing faster than I could say 'chemo'. My husband (who I think is extremely lucky that I don't still require 6 week haircuts and 4 week manicure's)is usually floored that I pay(his cousin, no less) $30 for a haircut and eyebrow wax. Anyway, today was the day. I came home from subbing, parked the 'new'(to us) Suburban in the driveway and hopped in the little commuter car off to my appointment. It was quick; I was maybe gone an hour and a half, tops. But when I came home I couldn't believe my eyes. I parked in the driveway next to a vehicle that was missing a backseat window. Now, those of you who know where we live know our street and the problems we have had with the highway. We have had people try to make the corner on icy winter roads and drive into our garage. We have had our dog ran over, our car ran into by a speeding motorist and now this. I peeked in, past the shattered glass shards to see a hunk of concrete smirking back at me from the comfortable leather seat. My heart sank and my stomach churned. It was devastating. No note. No message on the machine. It was just a freakish accident that I was going to have to buck up and pay for. OUCH. A quick trip to the local and marvelous body shop and $125 later we have an appointment to replace the broken shards with an actual window. Sigh. Guess it will be a year or two before I get permission for another hair cut. This is one time it probably would have been cheaper to drive the gas hog. Self portraits follow, view at your own risk.

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