My hair is curly, but I usually dry it straight, then according to the moisture in the air, by the end of the day I'll have something between long waves to something straining toward afro-dom. OK. Maybe not an afro. Shirley Temple territory? *shrug*
Since I've been back at the office, at least once a week-- usually Wednesday or Thursday, I get bawled out by a resident in one of several states of derangement. 95% of the time, the thing I'm getting griped at over is something I did not specifically cause (or even desire) to happen. 90% of the time, the thing they are griping about is utterly silly and irrelevant. However, I'm at the helm and so it's got to be my neck on the chopping block every time, I suppose. I'm getting better at de-fusing the situations, but they stress me out tremendously. I still am baffled by the blind-siding attacks where I'm accused of (last week it was) "throwing a fit" or something that is obviously silly. Hell, I've been married more than a decade, and I've thrown a fit at that man only ONE time, which is about a thousand fewer fits than he deserved to be on the business end of. I'm not a fit thrower. Not my style. Never will be. So, when accused of that last week, I was sort of blown out of the water. One of these days, I'll have heard everything and nothing will surprise me. Someone will probably accuse me of being Norwegian, or some such.
You see, I'm a dog person: I'm a pleaser. I want to get along and I love making people happy, even though I've been burned for this (obviously) inane urge. I'd like to be a cat person - aloof, self-sufficient, devil-may-care-- but I like to fix things and make things right, so the oblique feline route may never be my path. Oh well.
Anyway, back to my hair: I've felt like my hair looked crappy since I've been out of the hospital. Maybe the meds dulled it or something? I dunno. But today was different: my hair looked so amazing. *ting!* I knew that no matter what shitty thing anyone served up on a platter, I was rocking that 'do and nobody better try and stop me.
I put on my best dress and some heels and went to work. Yeah, I had to dodge offerings from a dung-slinging simian half the day, ultimately requiring me to consult with an attorney, but I felt good up until I left the office at 8pm (I usually leave at 4!). I was actually disappointed that the monkey only called on the phone - it was a pity he couldn't see how relaxed and cute I was looking. That would have been sweet.
So anyway, I was leaving the office and another resident came by and stopped by my car to chat a minute. He's got about a foot on me and I've got about 15 years on him, so I wasn't really thinking flirt-mode, but I think I sorta did. He was smiling, friendly, and I was eager to winnow out a moment in which a resident was obviously pleased to see me. We had a nice talk and as I was about to get into my car he said "I really like your perfume." I said "thanks!" He raised his eyebrows and said "That's really working for me."
I didn't have the heart to tell him that it was my fabulous hair that was working for him. But then again, I'm a pleaser, so why disillusion him?