sun shinging through tin foil covered windows. and chuck has to cram nice weather into an hour and a half -- he had to work. he damn-near put his foot on my throat until i promised i'd at least read the new yorker on the deck.
but i had tivo shows to watch. things to read. nice days suck. there is so much expectation. here we are in duluth, where we could have 14 nice days between now and halloween. but all i want to do is sit inside. i want options.
this is why i hate nice days.
rainy days are like kids in basic math. when they succeed, it is a great thing that no one expected. ice cream sundaes. people celebrate, throw a parade. when they fail ... well, hell, you expected them to fail. sunny days are like AP english. they have to write great essays and screw the captain of the debate team. sunny days are terrible.
but then i went for a run and almost got mauled by three deer and was giggling and cooing on london road. and then i realized deer are like duluth's version of cockraoches, so i should stop being so thrilled at this display of nature.
so i'm on my way to target and i take the rare glance of my face in the rear view mirror and what i'm seeing is that this thing ... natural sunlight ... is exposing a colony of grey hair in my head. not one quaint old-age post-it note. no. a fucking notebook of grey hair. i'm yanking the fuckers.
ripping that shit out of my head. placing them on my running pants, my car seat, i'm starting to look like i just hugged a super old cat. i'm dialing 411 and trying to get my guy david from shear katz on the line. someone has to fix this. stat. he doesn't have an opening until thursday unless i want to turn around and get there RIGHT NOW! i can't, so i have to live as a senior citizen for another day. fffffuccck.
reason number 48 to hate sunny days: age revealed via hair.
so target was fun. i got a pair of sunglasses and ran into beegee. we talked about the first ammendment and i had one of those weird moments where someone makes it look like having kids isn't awful because these children aren't assholes. weeeee!
i went to a large sports store to buy a bike helmet.
me: "do you have adult bike helmets?
worker: "yes, they are right here."
me: "okay, thanks."
worker: "if you need anything, just ask!"
[to another guy who is closer]
me: is this one size fits all?
me: okay. will this fit me?
guy: we used to have different sizes but we don't anymore.
me: okay. do you think this will fit me.
guy: i don't know where the other sizes went.
me: WILL THIS FIT ME!
guy: probably. [wanders away.]
in retrospect, i'm not sure we talked about what i wanted with my hair, specifically. although, i'm not sure i cared too much. i know he wanted me to go darker, which is fine. gwen stefani blonde doesn't work for me, we know this. but when i said i wanted red-red, i meant a red found in nature, like close to my natural version, not something found in synthetic plastics.
and i'm not going to lie.
i do not hate this. i look a little punk rock. but with converse shoes and a hoodie ... this will be a great homegrown look for next week.
"did you get permission to do this?" david asked. he means from my boyfriend.
"wha?" i said. really? people do that. i just assume chuck doesn't care what i look like. i'm actually positive he doesn't.
then chuck and i made dinner, went to starfire lounge and it was super fun.