Bummin' and Slummin'

I'm in a crappy mood folks. The more I think about it, the less I believe truly that I am experiencing PPD, but I just don't know.

I think I have a bad case of $hitty mood syndrome. I guess it's from Jef's big inventory coming up, the indecision of having another kiddo, and ordinary mom stress. That and I look like re-re-fried beans... to the point that I need to be tossed and start over.

Ok - enough! That was the bummin'.... now for slummin':

I have the same shirt I had on yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that too. I have showered. I even shaved my pits! But I have the same ol shirt on. It's comfy, and I'm feeling crappy so why not indulge myself in some slovenly comforts?

I really need to change the shirt after yesterday's incident. I fell and busted it in the garage. I was wearing my Old Navy flip-flops, it'd been raining, the Armada was wet (as well as my feet), and when I got out I planted my hefty rumpus in the concrete. Of course when I fell, I leaned back trying to catch myself so now I have 2 softball size bruises on my back, my elbow has a golf ball sized knot and a technicolor bruise, and my back hurts (worse than it did before). Oh yeah- and my butt cheek has a nice whelpy blue bruise. Brings a whole new meaning to "That's HOT!".

But I digress-

My hair. When you say the "My hair" sentence, you must shake your head and sigh. I should never have cut it. That's over and done with now. Now is the time for growing it back out (for the 4th time-- some never learn). I think I am going to color it, then worry about a trim. I decided after my last cut cost me $20 more than the previous one with the same person, that I must find a new hair girl (or guy-- ooh, I always wanted a gay hair dresser, but that's a whole 'nother blog-day). I've considered hair extensions, but I'm a tight wad. Still... I might go that route. I have "hair trust" issues. I wont let someone color my hair until they've cut it. And to cut it I need a list of references (not really... well, almost). Let's just say it's easier to get a job with the CIA than to be my hairdresser.

I told Jef that getting color from a new hair-person is like sleeping with someone on the first date. Not just the smoochie-poo stuff either... we're talking kinky 1st date sex (grab the weed whacker!). Seeing as how I'm a lady (ok, yeah I'm laughing too) I must follow proper etiquette. Oh boy- I may as well go to Publix and grab some color. But now for the hard part- WHAT color? Deep chestnut (natural, just enhanced), a roaring red (slutty, yet refined and temper-matching), or blonde (duh- I dunno!).

Seems like it will be a day of decisions... To toss, or not to toss the flip-flops that flopped me; hairy-scary... I'm still wary; The great Shirt-Capade!

tankless water heaters