A few days ago I made a rash decision to walk into a hair salon and set up an appointment.
You see, it'd been a while since I had my hair cut, and even though I'm going to grow it out (i say this every day/week/year but it never seems to happen so don't hold me to it), it was getting pretty funky looking. My last hair cut was an A-line (to you boys that means its shorter in the back and longer in the front) so it was growing all sorts of crazy. And it felt like the front was significantly longer than the back. And blah blah blah. My life is hard.
Anyways, point is, I woke up this morning and was like, "Ahh I don't know if I want to cut it! Plus, its kind of pricey. Maybe I'll just call and cancel"
But then I couldn't find their card with their phone number. And then by the time I decided it look up their number online, I just decided to go. Because that's what I do.
So, I got my hair cut! And it was really nice. It'd been awhile since I went to a real salon for a cut and I forgot how nice it was. She spent over an hour cutting my hair. Legit.
And bless her, that girl was most def not a scholar. We were doing the standard chit-chat between a client/hair stylist and she asked me where I was from.
I told her Denver.
Then we were talking about where I would go teach if I decided to go abroad again. I told her I would love to go to South America.
Her exact words: "Oh what countries are by that?"
She gives great haircuts!
(also-announcement! my hair color is all natural! no dye! this hasn't happened in...a long time)
(i can do hard things)
And then I found a cupcake shop.
(hey! look! its me holding another item of food!)
Thus ends Thursday morning, the twenty-sixth day of January, in the year two-thousand and twelve.