I've had a couple of really hard days in the past week. I'm tired of it. Hear that universe? I could use a really good day sometime soon. Today, though, my mom told me that she was proud of me for standing up for myself. She's never done that before, and I'm thirty. Maybe she's never seen it, or maybe this is part of my new refusal to take shit from anyone, but it felt good. Not taking shit from anyone? Well, that's a struggle these days, but what isn't. I wish I could tell you more, but that would be indiscreet.

Yesterday, my mom and I had hair appointments together. I drove and took a couple of unfortunate wrong turns (even though I have been there many times before), which stressed me out. They only hold appointments for five minutes on Saturdays, so I pretty much blew it with the misdirection. When we arrived, they said they'd make an exception, had me fill out the paperwork, and wait. And wait. And wait. I figured that I would have to wait a while, since I'd come in late. Then I began to feel like Eeyore, sure that I'd been forgotten, but afraid to push my luck by complaining. Except they had forgotten me and I should have complained after fifteen minutes instead of forty-five. I meekly asked if it would be better to reschedule and they were quite surprised. I'd been lost in the shuffle. Even though I was really looking forward to getting a haircut, I wasn't too pissed. I'd shot my bolt already freaking out about being late. Instead, I am getting a free haircut on Tuesday! All for the best. I would like something like Sienna Miller's youthful graduated bob (Jude Law, married men, and questionable reputation not included). This is several inches shorter than my current badly grown out, round layered bob. I'm tired of the Carol Brady long layer in the back and would really love a low maintenance 'do. I recently brushed my hair with a carding comb when I couldn't find my hairbrush, to give you an idea of how important coiffure is to me. This isn't too mumsy, is it? Picture it in red, with a pair of cats eye glasses.

Random observations:

* The Radiohead station on Pandora plays a lot of Coldplay and Keane. I like both of those bands, but they're a little too easy listening when I want to get a good sulk on.
* One of my college roommates and I spent an entire afternoon conversing in Radiohead lyrics.
* I am such a fiber addict that I can smell yarn through a package. Well, hand-dyed yarns, because they tend to reek of mordant. That's how you know they're fresh.
* Spiders in the bathroom freak me out, and I can't call Woody Allen to come kill them. When I was in college, I thought living in New York would be like Annie Hall and that I would go to all of the events that I read about in the New Yorker. I was sadly mistaken.
* The credits music on The West Wing is awful. How did I never notice that before having a WW marathon with my mom? Also, Alan Alda's crinkly eyed smile still makes me swoon a little. Who would have thought that crow's feet could be so appealing? I attribute this to watching a lot of MASH.
* I really hope Joan remains a regular on Mad Men. She's like a dash of paprika.


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