I finally got that haircut which I procrastinated about for so long…and what an experience that turned out to be!  This picture was taken this morning, not yesterday, ’cause yesterday the hair was big and pouffy, just like I didn’t want it to be!  Oh well, it’ll do.  Now that I’ve slept on it and flattened it I feel more comfortable with it.  Plus, I can now see that she took off a lot more than 1-2 inches…my hair was reaching the bottom of this V neck shirt I’ve got on.

I had to go to the mall yesterday, specifically to the post office to pick up a package for my son.  The notice said it would be available for pick up after 1PM, so I left my house at 1PM, walking slowly (well, to be honest, I thought I was going slow until I realized I had passed 3 other people walking slowly).

Once at the mall, I decided I would be brave and go to the hair salon for that haircut I wanted.  Long layers cut into my hair.  Simple.  Easy.  Not difficult to understand.  Almost got that too.

The lady proceeded to cut my hair with a razor (a big no no for someone with baby fine, thick, prone to frizziness hair), then started to blow dry it.  I told her I did not want pouffy, big hair and she nodded OK.

She was in the 3 section of the back of my head when I felt a painful pull.  My hair was caught in her blow dryer!  OWWEEE!  She finally stopped pulling and started to take the tangled mess of hair caught in the end of her blow dryer, all the while muttering how did that happen? and sorry, sorry.  Then, she called over a 2nd hairdresser to help her.  For what seemed like an eternity they messed around back there, put some kind of oil on the hair to help loosen the tangles.  Finally she was done.  Saying No harm done.

She’s finishes up with the back and moves to the left side, once again getting some hair caught in the end of her blowdryer.  Repeat experience.  Except this time I’m not as understanding or sympathetic.

Onto the right side and…yes, wait for it, one more freakin’ time!!!  So, now I’m just pissed off.  And she’s feeling it.  Tangle is out.  Blow dry is done.  My hair is bigger than her width (and she was no thin model-like person).  I’m upset.  She’s empathetically explaining how great my hair looks now, all shiny and bouncy, unlike the mass of flat heavy hair I came in with.  Everyone, and I mean everyone, in the salon agreed with her!  They all were complimenting the hair style, how great it looked…so much so it became very surreal…like I was in some kind of alternate universe where everyone was….stupid?  LOL

So, I nodded, thanked them all, paid and left as fast as I could.

Walked to the other end of the mall to go to the post office.  Actually, I must have looked like I was in a crazy rush, dodging and weaving my way through the sudden hoards of people (usually this mall is empty, devoid of people).  By the time I arrived at the post office I was a little winded but felt somewhat better.

I waited for what seemed an eternity, but was probably more like 5 minutes:)  Presented the parcel pick up card, my ID and waited.  No package, he says.  It’s not here yet.  Wants to know when I got the card.  Yesterday I told him, by the delivery person that did not ring the doorbell (3 people in the house, surely one of us would have heard it!).  He nods, says yes, it should be there, walks over to the other person serving customers and talks to her.  She says, well, maybe it’s back there but I haven’t had time to enter that pile of packages into the system yet.  Ask her to come back.

NO.  I don’t want to come back.  He gives me the choice to come back later or I wait.  Which would I like to do?

I say “come back” and turn around to leave.  But not before I catch that other lady give him a look that clearly shows my “anger” is unreasonable.  NOW I”M PISSED!  Stomp out the door and fly angrily home.  Spend the rest of the afternoon so upset I can barely concentrate!  Rapid heartbeat.  The whole bit.

Taking deep breaths, trying to get to that calm place inside, but that calm place inside is hiding from me.

OK.  finally got it under control.

Husband is home from work asking how my day was with an anxious, wary look on his face.  I launch into my haircut experience and finish with the incompetence of the damn post office and no wonder they are going out of business so friggin’ incompetent …

Alright.  So I’m not over it and not completely under control.

Maybe I should have taken the picture of myself yesterday so I could look at it today and see what I look like when I’m “beside myself”.  LMAO

Is it really too much to ask to be able to go out of my house without incident?

I mean, really?