One of the many, many lovely sayings my mother used, often, when we were growing up was, "What's the matter with [him/her/you/that cop/that crying baby...]? Must have a wild hair across his/her/its ass!"
Yesterday, I guess I sort got one. A wild hair. I called all the salons and only one was open: UberCheapoCuts. For the first time in my life I put my name on a sign-in sheet and waited for whomever to be free to cut my hair. Off. I may be going crazy.
So, today I have a halo of hair that scared the shit out of my in my morning bathroom run. I did a doubletake, shook it out and decided, "Hey, it could have been worse."
I'm going to fix it in a couple places and then confess, with pictures, that apparently I'm sporting The Katie Holmes-Cruise hairdo.
Crap, I look like somebody's mother ...