Sarah Morgan

Healthcare Geek.
Professional Communicator.

A shockingly journal-like entry, for once, because I’ve found myself to be far less interesting in my musings than I’d hoped I could be. And rather than turn into a stoned-Dusty-esque ranter I’m taking a pass and relying on reportage.

Friday I trucked through several area codes up to the sleepover that wasn’t. Ten years later, and I’m still the one who falls asleep first. Sadly, I think it’s time to give up the dream of growing up and eventually becoming cool. But I didn’t get shaving-creamed or frozen-bra’ed or any of the other John Hughes nightmares. Old-people sleepovers have their merits, I guess. Sorry, K.

Saturday, after art class and lots more errand-running driving (1 tank of gas=24 hours)… I couldn’t handle driving another three hours to upstate NY – sorry, J. and A. – and desserted at the diner instead with F. and A. and her new nose instead.

Sunday? More eating. Sunday-afternoon dinner with the BF’s family. Those Italians. Say what you will, they know how to eat.

So, this weekend? I… ate. Nice.

In other, slightly less depressing and more humorous (for you, anyway, not me) news, today I feel like a monkey. Not in the cute-capering-about kind of way. More in the unstoppable-head-scratching way.

I have had an unfortunate haircolor incident. Que pasa? Well: I’m a dumbass. Because if the “brighten your natural haircolor” bottle of hair dye says “20 minutes”, then 40 minutes will REALLY brighten my natural haircolor, no?

No. Incorrect. It will do practically nothing to the color of my hair. What it will do, though, is brighten the natural color of my SCALP.

So I get to explain this fiasco to my nice little doctor (the Filipino Doogie Howser) and be reassured that my hair, in all likelihood, is not about to fall out. Although it’s going to look very unwashed for a few days as I keep all things chemical away from my poor red skin. So now? I have an itchy head, a handful of Allegra samples, and a prescription for steroids.

Perhaps this will bring me to understand that after eight years of flouting the directions on innumerable hair dye boxes, retribution has come, oh yes it has. Retribution, thy name is Lumia by Garnier Laboratories. And retribution itches like a mother.


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