Even good stress is stressful

I got my hair cut this week. Which is always nice, and fun, because Christine, who cuts my hair, is my friend, and she’s the funniest person I know.

Christine and I are a laugh a minute together, and I was out of sorts because I’ve been under a bunch of stress and I ran out of magnesium which I need for my migraine prevention program and she was out of sorts because she needed a passport in a hurry and too much was going on.

I was the last appointment of the day and somebody turned up the stereo really loud and we were just both verklempt and she kept saying, in her Christine Voice, “What is that? Turn that down! I can’t think!”

She went in the little room and turned it off and somebody hollered, “Why did you turn that off?! That’s a great song!”

And I yelled back, “Because Christine can’t think and I need my magnesium! It’s just too much.”

And nobody responded. Or turned it back on, so I guess that was that.

I could see in the mirror that I looked like hell, and I texted Christine later that I must have looked comically bad. She didn’t deny it in her response.

But you know, when you’re draped in a black cape, it’s kinda hard not to look like Marlon Brando on a bad day.

So that’s where I’ve been. It’s been a stressful week or so, but nothing that’s not a step forward.

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About S.

Reader, writer, talker, knitter, picture taker, tennis player, music lover, Southerner.
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