My hair has a mind of its own. I realize that it’s not an uncommon thing for hair, and mine mimics the brain to which it is attached and the two of them like to rest.
The hair calms and relaxes more with each successive moment until it’s reached its calmest. When it’s completely and totally at its metaphysical peace, I notice. It’s usually while I’m in the middle of an errand run. I notice in the rear-view mirror that my hair is exhausted and I head straight home where I roust it out, and pump it back up by putting it through the rigor of hair calisthenics; conditioning, straighteners and volumnizers.
My hair is usually so relieved to make it through a styling workout that it spends one good hour all puffed up and excited—but by the second hour, stiffness has set in and by the third hour, it’s nodding off again.
The sink and I are allies; we know and understand the enemy. We’ve spent a lot of time together in minor skirmishes, cleaning, scrubbing and rinsing—the children, the clothing, and the dishes—and so the sink is well aware of the proclivities of my hair.
To: thatsritch@take.out
Unfortunately, it was the glance in the rear-view mirror that confirmed that the hair had achieved peak relaxation and if it became any more relaxed, it would fall out, so I am forced to take desperate measures and rile it up again.
Sorry I can’t write, I’m sinking, T.
The time I spend in the sink while attempting hair revitalization gives me a moment to reflect on what is really important: It’s the filthiness of the sink!
Reality Bite: Today my GFD was written in big bold print on the mirror. “RELAX.” Tonight, as I’m typing, I’m eating bonbons. Does that count as relaxation or is it considered dinner?
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