After 2 days of not having to set an alarm or get up early I was savagely betrayed by my body this morning. I have no memory of my alarm going off at 7am this morning but I know it must have, I checked it before going to bed last night so my vindictive subconscious must have done away with it with malicious intent as it was the ringing phone that woke me. The phone that was ringing due to the fact I was to be in work at the community shop at 9am. It was 9.05am. Crap.
An impressive but not record beating 7 minutes later I opened my front door, thankful to the heavens for Bob and promptly switched from thanking to cursing. For the second year on the trot it has been the poorest effort of a winter but this morning Mother Nature had decided to pull a hard frost out the bag and every one of poor Bob’s windows was solid with frost.
Two more precious minutes and a lukewarm kettle later and I was finally off. I still had to wake up but that task had been deferred until further notice.
After a mornings work and a trip to Tesco to stock up for the return of the children later on in the afternoon what passes for my brain was just starting to come to and wonder what the rush was all about. Possibly due to this I returned from the shops with not only a weeks worth of food but also a box of hair dye and a terrible idea.
After deciding that dying the cat probably wouldn’t be as easy as I first thought I shifted my attention to my own neglected birds nest of a head. Nothing but brush and wash had been done to my hair since October 2011. The long gap between bouts of attention are not unusual for my neglected head, this is how I can remember when the last time it had been cut and coloured was but this interval had been unusually long even for me and had resulted in my hair becoming, well, unusually long.
I decided that if I was going to stick some colour on my hair there needed to be considerably less of it. I remembered back a day to a conversation along the lines of home hair cuts I had with the Bitch on boxing day so before I could gain any sense or perspective on the matter I contacted her and got her to guide my scissor hand via text message. It turns out that cutting my own hair is not all that dissimilar to cutting a horses hair and I do that allot. I wouldn’t like to try pulling my mane though so tried hard not to confuse myself.
With around 40cm of length removed from my hair I set about the job of dying it. The children arrived home to what looked like their Mother finishing the job of clearing up the murder she had committed while they where with their Father.
‘It looks like you killed someone Mummy!’ Were the boys first words to me as he arrived in the bathroom and peered into the bath. My concern is with just how exited he was at this prospect.
The biggest problem I have with my new hair is that due to plagiarising the home cutting technique from the Bitch I now have the same hair style as her. I can’t quite get used to that. Every time I pass a mirror I think the Bitch is stalking me.
I have told the boy he can put the playstation on right after breakfast tomorrow since he hasn’t be able to play on his new games yet, this has nothing to do with me trying to make my morning getting used to having small people about again easier at all, non at all I tell you. The rest of the day shall either be spent playing games (computer and traditional), getting crafty with the crochet set the boy gave me and finding homes for all the lovely new things they have managed to gain over Christmas. We may break the day up with a trip to the cinema but that may be saved for Tuesday as I have found another adult to come with and share my pain but we have yet to pin down exactly when we will martyr ourselves for our children.