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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary


Another snoring hair entry

I just read a thing in the New York Times about how people are not opening their financial statements when they arrive in the mail anymore. Denial much? If it werenít for Terence nagging me about my filing, I would just stick the envelopes on my desk and forget about them. Instead, I now open the statements, look them over, get depressed for a spell, then hand them over to Terence for filing--I figure since heís such a filing nazi, he may as well do it for me. He doesnít really mind except that he hates my filing SYSTEM. Oh well. Sometimes when you are a busy professional woman, you have to feign interest in your assistantís complaints...

I took the bull by the horns and looked at all of my bank balances. This is the sort of shock therapy I routinely engage in a few days before rent is due. If Iím not freaking out about something, there is something wrong with the world. Todayís crisis involves writing a check from one account to deposit into another for the rent and bills, creating a money altar and doing a few chants to conjure my refund check from the IRS, scraping together the funds to get a haircut, and devising a list of Things To Sell On EBAY. The good news is that I donít owe as much as my friend Ned, whose credit debt is in excess of 24k. Jesus H., thatís a lot of corn.

I did end up getting a haircut this afternoon. I couldnít take it anymore, and that Hawaii wedding that occurs next week set the panic wheels in motion. My hair has been an unruly mess since the beginning of June! I couldnít come up with any photographic inspiration for hair styles, so I just went to the salon and asked for the usual--which is some kind of layered thing. This is what you get when you have curly hair. Layers. But the neat-o, new thing is that I asked Jason my lovely stylist to blow my hair out, and he actually obliged. Most hair stylists that Iíve dealt with have refused to straighten my hair. They never want to ďruinĒ the curl; they claim to be looking out for me, but really, they just have curly hair envy. Anyway, I came home a changed woman. Terence didnít even recognize me, and took my photo to memorialize the occasion. Later, I had coffee with Ned, and he was like, ďWhatís up, race car?Ē That, I have to admit, was very different from the usual ďWassup?Ē and I definitely felt different just walking down the street. However, my hair behaved very oddly in the breeze--all little strands of hair getting stuck in my lipstick

Of course tomorrow, sans hair dryer, sans round brush, my hair will revert to its normal curly state, and thatís ok.

Sorry for the boring hair entry. Iím kinda boring right now. Must be the red wine.

8:15 p.m. - 2002-07-30



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