Today is not going to be pretty.
First off we ran out of conditioner. Not a drop of conditioner anywhere in the house.
Second, Husband, channeling his Fireman Bob alter ego, threw out my hair dryer. Yes my one lunged, 1908 hair dryer, was on its last leg, but it did the job. I only use it to tame my bangs, and show them whose boss.
Ole one lung ran for approximately 1 minute a day. Yes he coughs and sputters to life, making peculiar buzzing noises as he decides to produce air, and yes he gave off a consistent burning hair smell that permeated the bathroom – but we all have our idiosyncrasies.
For that one most important minute of the morning, the one that determines your fate for the day; that puts you on a path towards good or evil; the moment that holds the power to establish a coveted “good hair day”, my 1908 leopard print hair dryer and I, are a team. Now, Fireman Bob, with no respect whatsoever for the significance of tamed bangs, has tossed my teammate out the window, and into the trash.
Good bye old friend, it will not be a pretty day without you.
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