I am not sure when my hair got so long. I swear, it multiplied while I was sleeping. Or, someone is sneaking Miracle Grow into my shampoo. I am not sure which of those two it is, but it certainly has nothing to do with the fact that the only place my hair goes is up into a haphazard pony tail most days. Even more absurd is thinking it has anything do with fact that I haven’t really dried or straightened my hair in months. When I dried it and straightened it today, I was astounded to discover the extra foot of hair I acquired.
Today I was also wearing a shirt with a much deeper neckline than I traditionally sport. You know, one that could technically be classified as cleavage-revealing on someone else. However, on me, it’s just a shirt with an awkwardly low neckline and no cleavage to be found.
After work, I decided to stop and get something to eat prior to teaching (you know, work #2, what supports the shopping habit I have). I had some extra time and went into a little café to savor some quiet time and a good meal before class. Dining alone doesn’t bother me at all. Despite that, dining alone is disconcerting due to the occasional gauche reaction from a fellow diner, which makes me feel like I should be uncomfortable dining alone. Apparently my solo dining status is of greater concern to them than it is to me. Those people apparently don’t recognize the beauty of quiet time. So, dining alone does provide some level of awkwardness as a semi-questionable social activity in the public eye.
So, I am sitting in the café, inconspicuously eating my Cherry Chicken Salad, when I feel something crawl down the front of my shirt.
I might have yelped a little loudly.
I might have began wildly patting, brushing, and beating my chest.
I might have stood up, attempting to fling this predatory creature from my body utilizing effort that should be reserved for evicting a swine-flu carrying visitor.
Much too late, I might have realized that it was a perfectly lovely strand of hair that had rather unexpectedly migrated into the front of my shirt.