The deed is done

I have showered and washed my hair and guess what? I cannot find my curling iron. I realized this before I got in the shower and so I thought about the problem while the suds were doing their thing. I thought about brushing it carefully while it dried, using my fingers to fluff it out or going to Wal_Mart for an inexpensive curling iron for just the few little turning poof of heat it would need. While I was wet, I started to formulate this idea based on finances and investing in my appearance: The cost of the haircut is quite inexpensive and so what if I had it trimmed up once a week and passed up on a couple of taco splurges? Good for the hair, good for the waist and we could keep tabs on the color needs (ROOTS). These speculations helped to quell my fears of emerging as a really straggly mutt.

And Heavens to Betsey, it seems to be a feasible idea. The freshly-layered hair fell nicely into a lively bob. Soooo – a hair trim a week and a couple of whiffles with a found or purchased curling iron and I will be in business. Well, not “in business” really,  but you know what I mean. Now this could all go to the dump if Der Bingle wakes and says something to the effect of doggy hair.

But he should be pleased – I took one of the super vitamins he has been getting for me and later I will take some vitamin D and, wow, did somebody put something in the water . . . like whiskey? Now I just need to go spiff up these regulars at the PBC&R. Maybe get them in the spirit with a few rounds of rousing hymns . . . If I can just find that megaphone now.