Fuck art. . . let's dance!
So it went yesterday. I had a hair appointment at eleven. That should have given me plenty of time to get things done in the morning. I had in mind a leisurely but long walk before I showered. But way led to way, as they say, and before I knew it, the morning was gone and I was out of time. I had to rush to make my appointment.
I was going to take that first wonderful picture of my beautician working with the Big Old Liberator, but she, too, was running behind. She was slammed, she said, with clients back to back to back until eight o'clock that night.
We didn't make the picture.
What we DID make was me look differently.
Low lights for the low life. I told her my blonde was looking too much like grey after she "cooled" me with a silver tone last time.
"I don't know what I want. I'm feeling poorly about myself. I look old. Make me young, babe. I want to be young."
She really worked me over good, sort of like a Waring blender.
Three hours later, I did look different. Not a bit younger, though. Nope. Not a wit.
I stopped by my mother's house to show her my short hair. She always wants me to cut it short, hillbilly that she is. But when I got there, she was gone. Hmm. I told her I would stop by after my appointment. Oh, well, it was mid-afternoon and I hadn't eaten. I thought about my options. I chose to eat badly for the second time this month. It had tasted so good the first time. . . .
The meal and the hours in the beautician's chair had tired me to the bone, and even though it was late, I chose to nap.
I didn't wake up until five. Five is not a time to wake up from a nap. You don't really wake up. You are simply somnambulistic. And dyspeptic. Taking a nap after a Whopper had done me dirty. I knew there would be no dinner for me. Still, there were necessary things I needed to get. First Whole Foods.
This is, without doubt, the best cheese I've ever eaten. Q says at $39/lb it should be. Jesus. . . I hadn't read the fine print.
What can I say?