Being Stubborn Is Not a Virtue

I have been spending every weekend running errands for the housebuilding, or socializing with my grandson and his family, or trying to get laundry done (the washer is available -- now it's not -- now it is -- dance). Therefore, trying to get a haircut has not been crossed off the list of things I have to do. Each day I have looked witchier than usual when I get ready for work. I have gone through various routines of hair combs, pins, hair ties, etc. to alleviate the situation. I am not into much appearance maintenance stuff as it really is a losing battle, but sometimes one has to make the commitment to develop a put-together look to avoid being confused with someone homeless.

Finally, this morning at work, in frustration while untangling the hair on my neck which was caught in my necklace, I called a hair salon that is about a 20 minute drive from me and asked if I could get a haircut that evening. They didn't know the name of the person I requested but said they could get me in at 4:00 with someone else.

I had a meeting at work until 4:00 but told people at the meeting I would be leaving at 3:30. It was a survey meeting and they were working through the various tedious questions with my colleague and I. With only three questions left and my eye on the clock, I excused myself and hurried back to my office to get my stuff.

What on earth was I thinking? I repeat, WHAT WAS I THINKING! We have been on the weather channel all day. Just getting across the street through the flood caused by the rain should have caused me to pause. The ambulance racing up the hill should have caused pause. The beginning of rush hour should have caused a pause.

I was completely soaked by the time I reached the car in front of the apartment building. I tossed in the umbrella and other items and squeezed myself (like wringing a wet washcloth) behind the steering wheel. While I started the car I glanced at the clock radio---4:15!! What? I suddenly realized that the clock on the wall in our meeting room was over 30 minutes behind. I called the shop and said I would be late and was on my way, and could they still take me? (Of course, what other idiot plans for a hair cut in a monsoon?)

Well, with brilliance slightly short-circuited by rain, I decided to take a shorter route off the main highway. It was definitely an over the river and through the woods trip. Only, I couldn't get over the river as the bridge was flooded and a cop car was turning everyone away. Driving carefully back through another suburb and squinting through the wall of gray rain I saw all of the swales at the sides of the road were becoming rivers. Cars that passed were spraying waves of water on each side.

A normal person would have turned back as it was already 4:45 and I was no where near the mall with the hair shop. As a matter of fact, I wasn't sure where I was.

Damn it, I am getting this haircut. I am not going back.

Through luck and tenacity I made it to the mall by 5:00, but to my surprise (I did say the brain was short-circuiting, didn't I?) all sheltered parking was taken I waded through more water and with the posture and possible smell of a damp dog finally entered the shop. They could still take me, but the stylist had gone for coffee. No duh, I was almost an hour and a half late. I sat damp, limp, and cold thumbing through glossy magazines of those rich New York models who would look good even with a bucket of cold water thrown in their faces.

Finally, the stylist arrived and to shorten this tedious blahog...I got a nice cut and was able to join bumper to bumper traffic getting back home by 7:00. I am still a stubborn old bitch, but now a much better looking one.