It is a droopy hair kind of day today. Stupid droopy hair. Also, I colored it only 4 weeks ago and my roots are already firmly in the “Whitest White of the Trashiest Trash” category AND, because I was a cheapy cheapskate who decided coloring my own hair was financially s-m-r-t (and I kept coloring my entire head every time instead of just the roots because one of my college friends tried the old “just color your roots” advice and ended up looking like a freak), the ends of my hair are decidedly darker than the top. So…to sum up: dark roots, a few inches of nice brownish-red color and then another few inches of dark, dark, DARK brownish-red color. GAH. My options are to 1) go crawling back to my hairdresser (a friend) and beg forgiveness and for her to fix it or 2) color my hair BLACK, put on some black lipstick and go listen to my Cure CDs. Or 3) shave my head and start from scratch. Any suggestions? One of you must be a fancy hairstylist, right?
Jason has been running in the mornings; first a mile, now two. I am seriously impressed with Jason’s running, and this morning was one of those absolutely goregous mornings where you can think of a thousmillion things you’d rather be doing outside instead of being jailed inside a muggy, droopy-hair-inducing office building. But my first thought upon taking Shorty outside in the sunny, perfectly cool morning was one of searing jealousy that Jason would get to run in such gorgeous weather. Do you get the significance of this, people? It was so nice out I WISHED TO EXERCISE.
There is some kind of swampy area across the street from my workplace that houses a glee club of frogs. Every morning and afternoon, I walk into the parking lot and there they are, croaking out a chorus of relaxing, peaceful tunes that evoke pleasant memories of late-night campfires. Wonderful.
OK, I’m gonna have to cut this short because I am about to chop my droopy bangs off with a dull pair of scissors. Good day, sirs!
1. Bedroom unusually hot, even for female who normally desires room temperature to be “tropical.”
2. Ceiling fan turned on to counteract heat makes female swipe at hairs tickling her face.
3. Window opened to let in fresh, cool air serves as giant megaphone for obnoxious bird chirping at 4:13 a.m.
4. Bird chirping lures grace-deficient cat onto headboard in a less-than-quiet manner.
5. Angrily shut window deters cat from headboard stalking, but results in claws-extended leap onto male’s face.
6. Male shouts curse words and something to the effect of, “She scratched the inside of my lip!”
7. Female consoles herself by thinking, “Well, at least it’s the weekend” – three times.
8. Female then realizes it is not the weekend. And weeps.
9. Cat v.2 jumps onto bed, demanding to be petted.
10. Petting not forthcoming, so agonizing display of unrelenting pawing commences.
11. Alarm clock goes off.
12. Male has giant welt on inside of lip.
13. Female heads to work in sleep coma.
On Friday, Jason mowed the lawn. It looked spectacular: perfectly spaced lawnmower lines, a brilliant, perfect shade of green.
“It looks like Astroturf!” I exclaimed. Then, after running to look at the backyard, “It looks like a ballfield!”
I couldn’t take my eyes off of it: it was perfect. Later, I took Shorty outside, both of us with our noses in the air, smelling the fresh-cut grass and basking in the warm sunlight. He was exuberant, leaping like a graceful gazelle after his tennis ball and craftily dodging my attempts to catch him. I sat on our wooden bench and pretended a tiny cloud of baby mosquitos was just a batch of harmless gnats and turned my face to the sunshine. It was Nice out. Shorty ran to the door to be let inside. Minutes later, he ran to the door again and whined. I let him out, thinking he had to go.
The air was still warm, the sky clear and a perfect shade of blue. Shorty scampered happily around the yard, forsaking his frisbee and tennis balls for a fresh rabbit trail. In the sky, a perfectly sliced half moon looked out of place, hours early to the party.
Shorty stopped suddenly, looked over at me, heaved a giant sigh, and sat, totally content. Finally, he meandered back to me, his rabbit-sniffing needs apparently satisfied. He never did go to the bathroom.
I think he just wanted to spend some more time outside.
I used to sleep with two pillows. I slept great, but people who found out about my pillow situation had strong, disapproving opinions. “You’ll ruin your neck,” they said. “Your shoulders and back are going to be screwed,” they said.
I didn’t care. I slept great; I could breathe. But one day I finally got rid of the two pillows, replaced them with a new, giant, fluffy pillow and tried to sleep comfortably.
I couldn’t do it. My neck felt scrunched, my nose was constantly stuffed, and I was uncomfortable. So I made a compromise: I slept with one arm under the pillow. And it worked great.
For a while.
Lately, my neck and shoulders sound like they’re made out of bubble wrap, making firecracker sounds when I get up. And this morning, I pulled my arm from underneath the pillow to rub my forehead, and smacked myself cartoon-style with a numb, heavy, pins & needles-laden arm.
Obviously I can’t continue to sleep like this. So I ask you: How do you sleep if you sleep on your side? What do you do with your arms?
