Clicky

So I have this stupid cold, and cramps, and also last night I was given a Really Bad Haircut. I went in for a trim, and explained the trim I wanted, and also a few minor changes. And then stopped paying attention because my stylist, who is pregnant with t-w-i-n-s, asked for suggestions on girl names. IVY, I said, you must consider Ivy. Just think about it.

While I was expounding on the virtues of Ivy, she was chopping off way more of my hair than I expected. Also: the front, I fear, is shorter than the back, which is the opposite of everything I believe in. She asked me if I was freaking out, and I looked at it and said no, it's hair. It grows back. It'll be back in no time! When I got home and looked at it some more and got all disgruntled. But it will be back in no time.

And, now, let's all mosey over to here, because I finally decided I wanted My Own Blog. And let's pretend this is a good change, because I am feeling decidedly panicked about the whole thing.

Clicky click,
black sheeped