In my defense, the internet was slow

So apparently it's been five days since my last post.

It sounds like I'm in confession.

Or did I already say that last time? Was it at least a little chuckle-worthy then? Probably not.

I cut my hair this morning. This isn't some cautionary-tale-woe-is-me post. I almost always cut my own hair. I have very thick which tangles too easily. I used to have tangles in my bangs. I don't now but only because it's not the 80s and I'm not 12. A childhood of adults tearing open my scalp (okay maybe slight hyperbole) trying to just get the brush through it a few times has made me very very touchy about other people getting all up into my hair. Also, stylists are taught to cut wet hair which is bad for so many reasons, but very awkward when a mediocre stylist cuts weird wavy hair. Trim five centimeters and suddenly the tress curls and springs up so the effect is a do four inches shorter. Even good stylists can have trouble judging just exactly what's going to happen.

Basically my hair has been annoying me for a few weeks now -- a sign both it and I should recognize and fear. Then the internet at home was slow and spotty for no damn good reason, so I couldn't follow my routine of reading email and online comix while eating breakfast. Bacon and toast done in a few minutes without the usual lingering I had free time this morning. Which I used to take three inches off of the back.

It may look like I insulted Wolverine and then turned around really fast back there. But I can't see back there. I just know that it almost feels like when I first hacked it all short last summer because I was tired of lacing my hair into my mask ties. (I tried that sentence with tying my hair into my mask laces. I don't know that it sounds quite right either way,) It's like my hair had bariatric surgery.

Yup, that's the whole point of this post. I cut my hair. It's the simple things some days.

I almost posted about Taco(free) Tuesday. That’s where you finally remember to put the lovely hunk o’ meat + misc spices into the slow cooker and you make the tastiest pulled beef over the holiday weekend and you have tacos for lunch on Monday and plan to have tacos for supper on Tuesday but on Tuesday your stomach is unhappy with you but won’t tell you why (and isn’t that just like an organ!) and you just end up eating crackers when you finally get home from work. This was followed by Tacoful Wednesday, so don’t weep too much for me.

p.s. The usual "don't try this at home, kids" caveat here. I've been cutting my own hair for most of my adult life. (Yes, I hate people foolin' with my hair that much.) I know what I'm doing, at least mostly kinda sorta. More importantly, I know what it could look like if I fuck it up and I don't care.