Hey! Gidget is out today! Why didn't I know Gidget was going to be out today? She sits six feet away from me, and it was too difficult for her to fill me in on her schedule? Communication. Boy, I don't know.*

I'm happy to report that yesterday evening's appointment with HairMan was devoid of the emotional tension I was fearing. It was also 50 minutes, instead of two hours, but more about that in a moment. First, I need to talk about how said appointment was not entirely devoid of weirdness.

I know that many women discuss anything and everything with their hairdressers. They make confidants of these poor people, sharing their life woes and worries. I am not one of those people. From a hairdresser, I want a decent haircut, occasionally a good dye job, and I want these things with expediency.

I do not care if their dog has the mange and I'm entirely uninterested in their feuds with other stylists. I feel no desire to share anything with them beyond the obligatory, how are you I'm fine how are you I'm fine exchange.

What I want to talk about is how quickly I'll be getting out of the chair. What I do not want to find myself talking to my straight, male hairdresser about is women's menstrual cycles.

It's just weird, okay?

As for the aforementioned shortness of the appointment, there were two contributing factors, for both of which I am grateful.

First, it turns out he was shoehorning me into the time when another client was over having her dye job baked in, so although he was slightly chatty, he was on a definite time schedule. Hooray for double-booking!

Second, as I sat there, waiting for my turn, I flipped through a women's magazine I found laying around and found myself reading about home dyeing. The article assured me that the product on the drug store shelves was just as good as what was sold in salons and, in fact, was quite likely to be less damaging to my hair.

I thought about it.

Salon dye - $50 and ninety minutes
Home dye - $15 and ten minutes.

Put like that, the choice seems clear. I mean, yes, sure, there are potential pitfalls, but nothing that really affects me. I'm not trying to go red or any color other than my natural one, so I don't have to worry about brassiness or unexpected color results. I'm not trying to add five layers of four different highlight colors. I just want to cover the gray.

So, when it was time for my turn in HairMan's chair, I denied any intention of dyeing and demanded a cut. And that's all. 50 minutes later, I was out the door, feeling fifty pounds lighter as I realized that self-dyeing means I will never again have to spend a day dreading a haircut appointment.

"Doctor! It hurts when I do this!"
"Then don't do that."

You wouldn't think anyone could write that much about something that didn't happen, would you?

I'm feeling a little embarrassed today. After pitching a fit at Vela yesterday because the 'NutNews files keep landing on my desk 48 hours late, putting me frantically behind with the rest of my work, it's now 11 a.m. on Friday morning and I'm pretty much done with my work for this week.

Later....

Hooray! Vela came by and started a new train of thought for me. Now I have a fun, new project to mess around with!

_________________

* Gratuitous and obscure The West Wing quote