RANDOM ACTS OF BLOGGING

1) You guys, I got my hair cut the other day. It was going to have to be a pretty drastic change, and when I was talking about it I swore that I'd go to a legit salon and get it done.  I got as far as trying to call the salon I wanted to go to only to find out that it had closed down. BOO! 

As you know, I have too much anxiety about getting haircuts to be able to make an appointment several days out.  If I think about it too much, I will overthink it and get too nervous to go.  So I usually just go to a place that is walk-in friendly.  That sometimes means that it isn't always staffed with the most skilled of stylists, but what are you going to do?  I didn't really want to get it cut.  I liked having long hair!  However, a weird health issue caused my hair to freak out, so a lot of it had to go.

I don't have a horror story about the haircut this time, amazingly enough.  My hair looks OK.  It's not great, but I don't hate it. The damaged part is gone at least, so it looks less fried, even if it is a little Dorothy Hamill-esque.  The funniest thing is that the men around me think I'm very sensitive about my hair, and would be mad if they didn't notice.  Granted, I didn't say anything to Steve just to see how long it would take him to realize, but he is notoriously inattentive to stuff like that.  My boss and coworker, though, have made a point to mention that they've noticed, I guess in case I start crying about it or something. 

Y'all, if I ever genuinely become the kind of person that cares so much about the way I look that I'd get mad at random men in my life for not noticing if my hair is shorter, I'm going to need someone to come and slap me around a little and help me gain some perspective, OK?  I'm giving permission.

2) I have been kind of haunted for the last few days thinking about those poor people in Hawaii who thought they were about to be bombed off the face of the world.  Steve's bosses (lovely, kind people) were vacationing out there when the false alert was sent and he told me that they called their kids to say goodbye and just went out to sit on the beach and wait for it to happen.  HOW AWFUL IS THAT?!  It's bad enough that they thought they were about to die, but to go outside and wait for it to happen feels like the most helpless, and freaking brave if I am going to be honest, thing I've ever heard.  Also, how did their kids feel?  To think that was the last time they'd get to talk to their parents? I'm sure it's nice that they got to say goodbye, but still.

It made me wonder what I would do if I were in that situation.  I suppose we never know what we'd do until we are put into a specific position, but I'd want to send messages to my friends and family to say goodbye and that I loved them. In what is probably not a very mentally healthy exercise, I've been internally composing what I'd say to the people who mean the most to me.  I wonder if I'd be embarrassed if I sent those messages and didn't die.  I mean, there are some things you might not say out of decorum or societal rules or whatever, so what would happen if you said something you thought was your final words and then you had to face that person again?  On one hand, you'd want to tell them what you had to tell them in case you didn't get another chance. On the other hand, some things can't be unsaid and might make things weird.  Ugh, I get knots in my stomach just thinking about it!

It also made me wonder who'd send me a message.  I wonder who'd remember me enough to say goodbye if they had just a little while left to live? I might not want to know, though, because it might not be anyone!  Bleh, the whole thing is awful.  I'm glad it didn't actually happen. 

3) I've already told some of you this, but I'm going to tell you again because I'm still mad about it!

A week ago, as I was leaving church, a lady stopped me and said that she needed to show me something.  Apparently, there is a woman in our church (a mentally challenged woman) who had been making a habit out of picking her nose and wiping what she found onto one of our church's pew bibles.  GROSS!  Beyond the pale gross!  She said that I needed to get rid of the offending bible.  Why?  Because I'm the secretary, that's why.  My job description says I have to do duties as assigned, and I suppose that picking up soiled bibles is a duty as assigned.  I was so disgusted.

Of course I didn't have any gloves (because you bet your ass I'd be triple gloved and in a HAZMAT suit if I had them at my disposal) so I had to suffice with a handful of tissues to guard myself and I had to pick of the bible and figure out what to do with it.  Now, I know that a bible is just a book, printed pages and ink, and we have a lot of them so if I had to get rid of one it wouldn't be a big deal.  However, I just don't feel comfortable throwing away a bible.  I know it's irrational, but that is just how I feel about it. So I had to find a place to hide the booger-infested bible in hopes that it wouldn't be noticed.  Now I just have to hope no one finds it and flips through it.

Why is this my job?  I have a college education for Pete's sake! Mucus was NOT IN MY CONTRACT!

4) We've started on the weight loss program I talked about in an earlier entry, and so far I hate every minute of it. I'm hungry, grumpy, sleepy, cold, and I feel like I'd give just about anything at this point to have solid food. I'm going to write more about it later, because thus far it's been quite the experience and it's a lot to unpick.  It's not the adventure I was hoping to take first thing this year, but it's the adventure that fell into my lap.  Stay tuned.