“So how’s the garage coming along?”
When news of a horrific crime reaches my ears, I often have a difficult time processing how such events and motivations could be possible. It seems that I live my life, happy as a clam, content in my own world… and that I project my world onto others and use my lens to make sense of realities beyond the scope of my comprehension.
Boy, wasn’t this birthday a far cry from the last?!
If you’ll recall, last year Brian went to great lengths to throw quite the shindig in celebration of my 30th birthday.
For the last two months, it’s felt as though nearly every day is a Thursday. Mondays felt like Thursdays, Thursdays felt like Thursdays, and – saddest of all – Saturdays & Sundays felt like Thursdays. You know what a Thursday feels like, right? That’s the day when you wake up drained from Monday through Wednesday, mistakenly think that it might already be Friday, and hope that you can wait another two days to put your mountain of laundry away.
So imagine my pleasure when yesterday actually felt like – and was – a Saturday! These days, Saturday mornings almost always consist of an hour and a half long color run. Color runs are when I’ve stayed up until 1:00 AM the night before trying to get a grasp on which chemicals I’ve used in the previous work week, which ones I’ll likely use in the upcoming week, which ones I’d like to have as backup and which ones would be nice to have to broaden my professional color inventory. To be sure, this process gets easier; but I’m still a new salon owner, so there’s a learning curve and I can’t afford to be ignorant. The following morning, after I’ve made my list, Bennett comes with me to Fairfax as I carefully pick out each bottle, tube and tub of red, brown, blonde, bleach and peroxide. Imagine his boredom. At this point, he starts making eyes at the employees, hoping they’ll whisk him away (and they have) and let him push any buttons within a twenty foot radius (and they have). By the time the transaction is complete, he’s made new girlfriends, colored himself with the pen that’s always at the register, sampled and resampled some test lotion, brushed his hair with a selection of brushes and dumped water all over himself.