Who Knew?

It’s been fun to have some hair—a ½ inch buzz cut—for a few days. Last night, when three-year-old Elijah saw me, he asked, “Why did you cut your hair?” I had to think quickly for an age-appropriate answer. Somehow telling the straight-out truth (that I wanted to have a couple extra days of some hair at least) didn’t seem like a good idea. So, I answered him in terms he could understand: “Because I wanted to have hair shorter than yours.” He immediately accepted that explanation and went on to the next thing, which was watching a Mickey Mouse video and doing Mickey Mouse moves.

In the middle of the night, I woke up to a hairy pillow. I changed it out, and this morning I woke up to another hairy pillow. Who knew that ½ inch of hair could make such a mess? This morning, I vigorously scrubbed my head with a soapy washcloth, then with a wet washcloth, and finally with a rough bath towel. I succeeded in removing less than half of the remaining hair. I still feel like I have hair in my throat. And now I have bald spots on the sides and a round bald patch on the top of my head. I don’t mind being seen in public like this, but I do mind the thought of waking up tomorrow morning with hair in my throat.

And one more thing, as Detective Columbo used to say. I may need to retire my hot pink 40-ounce Stanley mug. Suddenly, after months of no problem, I’m tasting the stainless steel. I hate to give up the convenience of keeping my beverages cold for hours, but the metallic taste is nasty.

Now that I’ve made my complaints, it’s time to kick back in my recliner and rest awhile.