I got a verbal tongue lashing from my hairdresser. I popped in for a trim, but I've been really bad--I haven't been getting my hair trimmed regularly and since I've been out of work I've been cheaping out on the shampoo/conditioner (using store brands instead of my usual salon brands.) When David saw my hair, he shrieked like I did when I saw the zit (well, not really, but just about.) I mean, my hair looks *awful*. But I didn't have time for more than a trim, so that was all I got, despite the protesting. For some reason, my hairdresser is heavily invested in my hair. He likes redheads, and I'm his only redhead client. He was afraid I'd gone elsewhere (yeah, right--David was personally trained by Paul Mitchell himself, so I don't think I could really replace him.) I do have to say though--there's nothing like being henpecked by a gay male hairdresser to make a gal feel loved! LOL!
Then, stupid me went and bought a new pair of jeans that I needed, but not crisis needed. I mean, I still have another pair to take with me. So I might take those back, I dunno. Maybe I'll just pack 'em and if I don't wear 'em, I'll take them back, because I never wear jeans in the summer anyway.
And now, I'm going to try and wash the cheap tennis shoes that gave me a blister, and try to soften them up with some fabric softener. And I *have* to get my laundry done, because...well, I just won't have any more time to do it! Squee! I'm sort of nervous and excited all at the same time. I can't believe it's almost time to leave!