When I let my hair out of the towel this morning, I was not expecting miracles. I never do.
I was still living off the wave of a different high. I had started the dryer before bed. And everything had dried.
How often does that happen? You just have to ask yourself that sometimes.
My new Everday is pretty cool. You are allowed comfort. If you want it, that is.
It was great to pull my heaviest, baggiest, most comfortable sweater out of the dryer and not find one spot on it damp.
I had already had my morning miracle.
I try to leave a brush by my front door now. I comb my hair before I go. This morning when I was leaving, I was combing my hair for the first time.
Now you might be lucky. Be one of those people who have lovely hair most days.
I figured out a long time ago, I am not one of those people.
Seems my hair is mostly in various forms of need-to-be-combed.
It's messy. It's limp. It flys-away, I guess.
It's bedhead...
Whatever. I do not worry about it much.
At least my hair gives people something to talk about.
But not today.
Today my hair is perfect. Normal looking. Oh-so-pretty.
This only happens three times a year.
I have nicely combed hair.
And I am in a real comfortable shirt.
I throw on my sneakers, grab my big black shoulder bag and head out.
I have theories for life. Constructed over my years of living it.
Maybe because of that, I am THAT girl.
You know me. Come on. I know you remember me.
I am the girl who did not notice the light was red when she started crossing the road.
The girl who walked into that parking space just as you were turning into it.
The girl who bumped into you three times in the grocery store. Only once with her cart.
Yeah.
I remember you, too.
But you really cannot blame me. I have these theories, you see?
And one of them is everything stupid or ditzy I have ever done, it can be traced back to the fact I have messy hair.
Yes. You really can blame life on stuff like this.
I arrived at the bus stop early today. I like doing that.
I had my coffee in hand, standing on the sidewalk surveying the stop. No one was there. I get to have first pick. Of where to sit.
I decided close to the edge of the sidewalk in the grass.
I swung my big black shoulder bag off my arm. With some gusto. I was happy to let the heavy thing off my shoulder.
I nailed an unsuspecting jogger with my big black shoulder bag.
In his balls.
Sigh.
So much for THAT theory.
I was still living off the wave of a different high. I had started the dryer before bed. And everything had dried.
How often does that happen? You just have to ask yourself that sometimes.
My new Everday is pretty cool. You are allowed comfort. If you want it, that is.
It was great to pull my heaviest, baggiest, most comfortable sweater out of the dryer and not find one spot on it damp.
I had already had my morning miracle.
I try to leave a brush by my front door now. I comb my hair before I go. This morning when I was leaving, I was combing my hair for the first time.
Now you might be lucky. Be one of those people who have lovely hair most days.
I figured out a long time ago, I am not one of those people.
Seems my hair is mostly in various forms of need-to-be-combed.
It's messy. It's limp. It flys-away, I guess.
It's bedhead...
Whatever. I do not worry about it much.
At least my hair gives people something to talk about.
But not today.
Today my hair is perfect. Normal looking. Oh-so-pretty.
This only happens three times a year.
I have nicely combed hair.
And I am in a real comfortable shirt.
I throw on my sneakers, grab my big black shoulder bag and head out.
I have theories for life. Constructed over my years of living it.
Maybe because of that, I am THAT girl.
You know me. Come on. I know you remember me.
I am the girl who did not notice the light was red when she started crossing the road.
The girl who walked into that parking space just as you were turning into it.
The girl who bumped into you three times in the grocery store. Only once with her cart.
Yeah.
I remember you, too.
But you really cannot blame me. I have these theories, you see?
And one of them is everything stupid or ditzy I have ever done, it can be traced back to the fact I have messy hair.
Yes. You really can blame life on stuff like this.
I arrived at the bus stop early today. I like doing that.
I had my coffee in hand, standing on the sidewalk surveying the stop. No one was there. I get to have first pick. Of where to sit.
I decided close to the edge of the sidewalk in the grass.
I swung my big black shoulder bag off my arm. With some gusto. I was happy to let the heavy thing off my shoulder.
I nailed an unsuspecting jogger with my big black shoulder bag.
In his balls.
Sigh.
So much for THAT theory.
Comments