Friday, I was off to the hospital radiology department for a routine exam. You know the one. Where you can't wear deodorant until after it's over. So I packed up my Lady Speedstick, or as I like to think of her, "M'Lady Speedstick," in the bottom of my purse, and off we went.
First stop was dropping The Pony off at school, because, you might have heard, he does not yet have his driver's license. I sat in my room using up Newmentia's internet until my sub arrived. No time to go back home, and too early to head for my appointment.
At the hospital, I found that parts of the waiting room have been gutted, parts have temporary partitions, and the waiting area for radiology has been moved to the hall. I signed in and was escorted back to the special waiting room for my test. M'Lady was snoozin' in the bottom of my purse, I think. I grew drowsy myself, having that waiting room all to my lonesome, operating on 2.5 hours of sleep because Farmer H had insomnia and chose 2:00 a.m to discuss recent statewide events.
I must have gotten there at just the right time, because a woman made her exit from the changing room, and I was invited in. A gravelly-voiced technician asked if I had put on deodorant that morning. No ma'am. I was tempted to pull M'Lady Speedstick from the bottom of my purse for proof. But I figured that might slow down the process. I disrobed, robed, paraded myself to the squisher, got squished, and paraded myself back to the robing room. I put M'Lady to good use, and we took off for Terrible Cuts. I did the online check-in, even though it showed the wait was 0 minutes.
Well. I got there and parked horribly without The Pony to guide me. Once inside, I saw that there were four workers and no customers. Which was perhaps an omen. The Talky Gal I don't really like was hovering over a li'l gal at the register, showing her what to do. "Welcome to Terrible Cuts. We'll be with you in a moment." Like Not-Heaven they would!
I stood, thinking that no sooner would I sit than they would call me up. Nope. I stood some more. A new gal came up behind them. On and on Talky Gal droned. I guess they should really plan a week for orientation. New Gal said, "Do you want to come on back?" Yes I did. I thought she was only going to seat me until someone else came to give my terrible cut. It's hard to tell the floorsweepers from the cutters there. But no. SHE was my cutter.
New Gal looked really efficient. She didn't yank. She didn't talk an ear off. She looked like she was getting the length that I requested. Then she asked if she should blow it dry. Yes. For the whole $13 that I was paying, yes. And it looked fine.
When I got home, I saw that New Girl had apparently trimmed the sections that were just right, and left the ones that scraggled. So my new haircut did not make my hair more ruly as a haircut should, but accentuated the unruly parts. AND when I picked up The Pony, and drove him home (with him sitting right behind me the whole way, you know) and stopped for gas and got out and stood right beside his window at the pump...The Pony never even knew I got a haircut until I told him.
All I could do was commiserate with M'Lady Speedstick as I carried her to the master bathroom and shut her away in the cabinet.