Tomorrow (today?) I’ll be getting my hairs cut. Mom is getting hers chopped too. She said this place does a scalp massage, shoulder massage, and a mini facial. Oh god. There’s a reason I only get my hair cut 1.5 times per year, plus self trims at home. I don’t like it. I harbour slightly less ill will towards hair doers than dental doers, but it’s still something I’d rather not do. Now, add the knowledge that she’ll be touching my face to that. Nope. No touching the face. It’ll be an expensive damn haircut, because the place with the people who do it for 15 dollars and don’t fuck it up closed. My last $50 haircut was terrible. I said “minimal layers”, which must mean 8 inches of layers. I claim I haven’t gotten it cut in 9 months because I was waiting for the shortest layer to grow out to an acceptable, below shoulder length. So, my hair is stupid long and ratty. It has a natural curl going and if I attempt to dry it after a shower, it’s like I stuck a fork in an electrical outlet. Pretty cool if I were Einstein. It’s time to be a big girl and get scissored.
April 22 is Earth day. What a marvelous place, this planet Earth. Too bad assholes had to come along and fuck it up. It’s also my wedding anniversary. I’m a little sour that I won’t be getting tipsy and playing stupid games with my husband. Marriage is hard fucking work, but I’m thankful we both have the fortitude to deal with our collective bullshit in a mostly productive way. We make a pretty good team when he isn’t being an idiot and I’m not going psycho. I half expect to hear nothing from him, as he probably doesn’t even know what day it is. He was in Korea and I was in the hospital on this date last year, so things are certainly better in that regard. We’re on the same continent, in the same time zone.
I’m back and forth on when I’m going to leave. Dad has decided Mom isn’t allowed to come when/if he drives me home, which sounds less “fun” because I’ll be the only one there to face his wrath. Manchild reeeeally wants to pick me up, but I reeeeally don’t want to have my inerds scrambled again. And, if I stay, I’ll have to be Mom’s bitch for a few days after she has surgery on her other foot. Dad refused to do anything for her after her last surgery and tore the incision trying to get food ready. He’s a dick. I’m tired of being the mediator. I should stay, but I’m also behind on iron and multivitamin infusions, and I have a half dozen follow-ups I need to schedule. Not that it even matters since I can’t drive. I’m going to prescribe myself 1 glass of wine per night. That’ll help me make important decisions.