Monday, Monday

Posted by on Sep 12, 2006 in Uncategorized | 1 comment

Yesterday morning the alarm clock woke me from dreams I didn’t want to have (writing that just now reminded me of my dream from just this morning. I was watching Adam & Paul or something. They were younger and they were telling me how to properly make their lunches for the day. I think they were being sneaky about something, but I couldn’t figure out what. It was a fun and good dream. Not at all like the dream from the day before, the details of which I do not remember, just the disconcertion and desire to flee) and I got up right away to take my shower instead of snuggling back in bed with my hubs.

Jud got up while I was still in the shower and went downstairs.

I kept on about my business upstairs while hearing, what I believed to be, the neighbors doing something strange in their bedroom (something involving clicking metal noises) until it was time to do my hair. My hair is the hardest part about mornings. Straight? Curly? A little of both? These are decisions that require more effort and awareness than I am typically able to muster at 5:30 am. I do my hair in the downstairs bathroom because our upstairs bathroom doesn’t have any a/c, which means any attempt to tame the frizz will be immediately mocked by wild hairs and because when Jud does not get up, I usually try my hardest not to wake him. So, down the stairs I step and round the corner I go until I stop in my tracks when I see Jud sitting in a dining room chair, tools in hands and the doorknob off the bathroom door.

We are on one side. My hair products and instruments were on the other side of that door and it was not letting us in. Jud was trying his best to get the door open (even considered taking if off of it’s hinges but then quickly realizing that the forty billion layers of paint covering the hinges would never give him permission. He knew I’d be desperate to get in there and he was trying to keep me from panicking. I got out my CVS card and tried to pull the latch back while poking at the mechanism with a screwdriver. He tried the same thing with greater force. It wasn’t working.

I went upstairs to forage for spare hair products and found only a mostly used old bottle of mousse that I began attacking for it’s left over juice. Little remnants shot into my hand while air rushed out forcing little ripples in the tiny pools. There was not enough for my hair. I must have been feeling quite zen though because I had not raised my voice or started shaking or anything. I was still very lucid and attempting to trouble shoot my issue with finesse when I realized I’d just have to go to work with wet, ugly hair.

Calmly succumbing to my fate, I went downstairs and made my lunch.

And then….sweet, sweet victory! Jud broke into our bathroom and I once again had access to all of my hair essentials (not to mention my deodorant, which I may have forgotten to worry about at all. I guess stinking is no problem so long as you have good hair).

Thank you, Jud for knowing me enough to realize that getting into that bathroom was incredibly important to me and not getting into it could have meant the end of the world forever. You are my hero.

One Comment

  1. At least my kids were doing something constructive in your dream:) And they weren’t dying, which is the case for the most part in mine! YIKES

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