"Oh, I know what you get," and she basically did a military shave leaving a tuft of hair at the top. Stupid dumb. Welcome hat season. As Pam said, "It will grow back. It always does."
I'm just so used to leaving the barber knowing that for a week I'll have the clean, pimped-out look that makes me happy to come across mirrors. NOPE. Not this. Beyond dork, which would be cool because I am a dork, but I've grown accustomed to the care and professionalism of Jerry, my barber. He treats my head as if every hair deserves his utmost concentration and craft. This Bitch just went derelict on the noggin. Buzzzz buzzzz snip snip snip. Buzz.
I had it coming. My fault.
I'm heading back to CT this morning (Bert-heading, I guess), so I can get on top of the year ahead. Part of me is holding my breath in planning too much, because if the TESOL grant comes in (that is a big IF), then the entire year, with four following, will take off in a totally different direction while I prioritize next steps in my last years of accomplishments.
Chitunga and Lys made it back from Long Island, and we met at The Retreat, my favorite Liverpool romp. Would have liked to spend more time with them, but she's heading back to school, Chitunga is working from her parent's house, and the aides caring for my parents could probably use a break from Karal and me.
So, it's a posting this morning, then a departure. Looking forward to finishing Jim Carey's memoir, and I have plenty of other books on deck (plus who knows how many arrived while doing parental care up north). Time will tell.
Onward. Biting my lip and moving forward once again.
