Tomorrow morning I’m getting my hair cut. Trimmed. Whatever. It’s been a super long time since I’ve been to my hair stylist and I look like a woman who lives in a tree stump in a deep dark forest. Or like a hippie prancing around on an organic farm back in 1974.
I expect I’ll look like a middle-aged housewife when she finishes with me.
Recently, a couple of people have been snatching purses at the mall where the salon is located. I fully expect to run into them but they will not snatch my purse because I will fight to the death and one mom-glare from me will reduce them to a puddle of fear. Also? My purse is not an expensive designer purse, which is apparently what they target.
I was alone in my house this afternoon, thanks to an alignment of events. My daughter spent the afternoon at a friend’s house–she rode the bus directly there after school. My son was at school late because once a month he and his buddies have to stay after school while the neighbor-lady runs a PTA meeting. I sent my teenagers outside for a walk. They are supposed to walk every day for exercise, but I forget to make them and they conveniently don’t remind me.
So, I was alone for about an hour. It was glorious and rare. When we adopted babies fifteen years ago, I had no idea that meant I would hardly ever be alone again. For you extroverts, that is a dream come true. For we introverts, it’s exhausting. Or maybe I should just say I am exhausted. I am. Exhausted.
But at least tomorrow at this time I won’t have such an unruly mop of hair. And there is something to be said for that.