My hair is a double edged sword. I’m happy I still have it to cover my giant square head but as I get older my hair has become more unruly or as it has been described by more than one person, “bum like”. So when I comb my hair sometimes the combing doesn’t take and it looks like I did nothing. Carrie is usually there to give me a “what the fuck is up up with your hair” look and hand me a comb. We keep one by the front door for just this reason.
It was Saturday, Carrie got to sleep in, I was heading to work and running late. I looked at the mirror by the front door to give myself a once over “do I pass for human” test and GAHH!! I looked like Beetlejuice on a bad hair day. So I had to re-comb my hair but I couldn’t find the comb, it was nowhere. The only thing there was the dog’s brush. I stared at it. It was made to comb hair, it doesn’t differentiate between dog and human hair. Nobody would ever know, ever, never… Kept staring at it, it wasn’t a line I was willing to cross. Yet. So I ran back upstairs and combed my hair again, which somehow made it look worse. Like a really terrible hairpiece, one so bad that people would think that nobody would buy a hairpiece that bad, it must be his real hair.