Unanchored Thoughts

Bits and pieces of musings about family, friends, social issues, and whatever else travels through my head without a purpose.

Friday, October 17, 2008

No Room in My Psyche, I Mean Schedule, for Mishaps

Today was the day of my desperately needed haircut at the feel-good spa I now use. I've tried a few different stylists and finally settled on the young 20'something who makes me look hip (at least for a few weeks until the cut grows out and then I look harried until I find the time to squeeze in another appointment). After waiting much too long and feeling like a puffy rat the time arrived for "Kelly-maintenance day." I took the boys to school (which I never, ever do on a non-work day) and headed over for my 9AM cut. I worked it out so that I could get a cut in, get the computer fixed at the Best Buy Geek Squad desk, pick up a 3 year old birthday gift for the party we are attending tomorrow, and maybe, just maybe swing by TJ Maxx for a new, cute get-up to go with the new do. All this could be accomplished in 2.5 hours, I thought, which is what I allotted before retrieving the boys guilt-free. Beyond that the guilt would outweigh the benefits.

So, after waiting 15 minutes for my girl to start the cut I began to get twitchy. I had the first appointment of the day, so surely she shouldn't be late, right?. Oh wait, this is the girl who told me she regularly sleeps until noon. After 25 minutes they admitted that she hadn't arrived yet and they were trying to reach her. After 30 minutes they told me that "something came up" and she wouldn't be arriving until the afternoon. Did I want to reschedule? WAH, WAH, WAH. RESCHEDULE?!?!?!? I AM A MOM OF TWO YOUNG CHILDREN. I'VE ENGINEERED THIS DAY TO BE ABOUT ME, ME, ME. WAH, WAH, WAH. I didn't actually say or shout all of these words, but I think my face said it all. They left, returned and told me that "Barry" would be available soon. He looked fun, so I waited 20 more minutes for him to cut my hair. He asked me what I wanted and I told him I needed to look cute, quickly. He pulled out a picture of Posh Spice's new cut and said "how 'bout this?" Perfect. He handled my fragile psyche well and had me looking about as close to Posh as I ever will in about 20 minutes. I left with a smile, 10% off the next visit, and a candle.

Now, if only I could master that Posh Pout and I'd be making millions.


Blogger diana onorio funk said...

20-somethings are trouble!! Better off with a mature 30-something, I say. :) Can't wait to see the new you, the new 'do!!

8:18 PM  

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