Must be screw Nancy day, or take advantage of kindly looking people day or just a messed up Monday.
It started out to be a good day with morning visitors and pleasant conversations, then I went to get a cig and whoa… where is my last pack of smokes? They did not just walk out the frikkin door.
Afraid so, but doubt if it was on purpose. I’ve had to say “hey, that’s my pack” on other occassions when absentminded people who smoke the same brand try to pocket my smokes. I just wasn’t paying attention today. My neighbor was kind enough to buy me a new pack on his daily beer run, so it was just a temporary irritation. Then I visited with his mother for awhile, who kindly brought me some craft supplies, and called myself a taxi cab instead of watching today’s episode of Y&R.
I should have known, but how was I supposed to know that his turning onto Yo-Poland Road would be a longer scenic route instead of a time saving shortcut? Racking the cab fare up higher than the usual $9 fare hitting South Avenue or the $7 fare, when cabbies take the real shortcut to this destination, cost the man his tip. I did not take a taxi home, they got enough cash out of me today, so I opted to pay 70 cents (disability rate with a transfer) and ride the WRTA bus all the way downtown to the station to wait 40 minutes outside in a cold drizzle rain before hopping another bus back out to this burb I call home, a journey of darn near two hours including wait times.
Since I was unshopping at lunch time (returning an obviously previously returned by someone else impossible to assemble stool and getting store crediit instead of a cash refund even with my receipt), I stopped at a Subway and ordered a $3 sandwich that was advertized on a sign.
What would I like on it? Spinach, green peppers, red onions…. a slice of bacon. She overcharged me $2 plus change for that ONE slice of bacon, or rather, they returned $2 and change after I asked why it cost so much more than advertised.
Yes, it was one of those days. But, it wasn’t all bad. One of the main reasons I headed to this shopping plaza today was to get last week’s hair cut fixed.
Oh my, it was BAD. It was chopped up crazy in uneven lengths. The front didn’t match the back, bangs were a wavy crookeed mess, even the sides did not match each other. I’ve had a hell of a time trying to make it look okay and of course, only AFTER voicing my own opinion about it did I hear the opinions of others… they thought it was bad but didn’t want to say anything. Some people thought I must have let my four-year-old granddaughter cut my hair. They said it looked like a “pixie mullet” and other not-so-kind words that I will not repeat in blog world. It was bad.
I’ve never returned a haircut before. I was a bit leary of asking for a redo considering some of the chopped hairs were only a half inch long, like how short can I go? But, I got a good stylist today. She trimmed it up nice, managed to style it so it doesn’t look way too short and showed me how I can comb it my usual way, then showed me how to spike it. Then she flat out refused my generous tip, despite my insistance that I always tip the stylist, and sent me on my way with no charge for the redo, a $5 coupon, and some product samples.
Wow. I did not expect that. When I get foils this summer, I am going to call first to make sure she’s there as I don’t want anyone else doing my hair.
Considering the day I was having, spiked hair was perfect. And, of course you know, a binger automatically wants to “treat” herself in attempt to forget all the crap that is going on, to try to feel better on a sucky day, so I wanted a treat, some mouth candy, having such an oral personality and all. No, not a tub of ice cream and all the crap that goes on it.
Remember “pink therapy”? The treat myself with pink things like lipsticks or whatever as little rewards for good behavior? Well, I was good today, handled difficulties diplomatically and politely. I didn’t cuss anyone out, didn’t get rude, and although it was very tempting to hunt the person down who walked off with my last pack of smokes and knock the snot out of them, I let it go. I also managed to laugh and enjoy conversations with people I haven’t seen in awhile, which made the long bus ride home more pleasant. It wasn’t such a bad day after all. Just a day to be aware that other people’s intentions (and errors) are not always good for me.
Yes, I treated myself to a new tube of lipstick. The color is not push-over pink. I wanted something out of character, a color that I have never worn before, a shade made for women sporting spiked hair.
I got red. Really Red. Or at least that is what it is called. I may never wear it out in public, just as I may never wear my hair spiked again, but I got it if I ever feel like it. And it’s not half bad. Thanks for reading.