#blisstopia

Good mornthing!

I am trying a thing with my hair. (Have you noticed I just about always mention my hair in the mornthings? It’s definitely a function of how the daily mornthing selfies started, for sure, but I wonder if it comes off as vapid and aesthetically self-involved to folk swho don’t know about that. Then I wonder if I am not, in fact, decidedly aesthetically self-involved. #BitchIMightBe ) One of the things that has really helped my curls work toward being their best selves was dropping $5 at Christmas Tree Shops a year or so ago for this microfiber “Turbie Towel”, a.k.a. a little microfiber thing with a deep pocket at one end for your head, and it gets slender toward the other end, and you plop your hair into the pocket and pull it down around your head and then twist the tail hanging from your forehead until it is a twisty ropey hoobiedo and tuck the end of it into the little elastic tabbything on the back of your head. The idea is that it schlucks the wetness out of your curly hair and lets the curls get mostly dry without a lot of motion and rubbing, which tends to make curly hair go all frizzy the way it tends to make wool get felted.

Now, the turbie towel itself is not new. As I said, I’ve had it going on for a year or so. Slightly newer, acquired over the summer, is the dark blue do-rag I picked up at the dollar store. I meant to use it for sleep, and it works on approximately the same principle: Gatherplop the hairs into the pocket, tuck it in around, tie it down, and go to be knowing that my restless ass can toss and turn and my hair isn’t turning into a felted mat rubbing against my pillow.

One morning a couple weeks ago I was getting ready to go meet a new friend for coffee, and I didn’t have the turbie towel on hand because I’d thrown it in the wash. ALAS! So when I got out of the shower I gently squeezed the water out of my hair with my hands and then put the do-rag on, and went about the rest of my readiness routine. I took it off right before I left, and turned up the air in the car to let it finish my hair drying as much as possible.

Holy crap, but my hair looked good. Dark and shiny and curly. It’s what I dream of my hair always looking like, and I had to point out to my coffee companion that my hair never looks that good and to not get too used to it. (They have seen several selfies of it since, so they have realistic expectations with regard to my hair.)

So this brings us to today - when I am wearing both. I put the do-rag on first, because it has even less texture than the turbie, and therefore is even less likely to frizzify my curls. The turbie is on over it to catch and collect the moisture slowly coming out of the hair.

I will have to do a secondary selfie later, to see how it turns out. Because the only difference between fucking around and science is writing shit down. #HAIRSCIENCE!

In non-hair news, my car goes into the shop today. I am hoping for the best (a quick and easy fix) but planning for the worst (it has to stay there for the weekend which would mean borrowing Secret Agent Lover Man’s car to shuttle Eldest Spawn to his father’s and also to get to work tomorrow). In the meanwhile, since Bosslady gets me, I am having the car place shuttle take me in to work even though I am not on the schedule. Spending the middle of the day working and earning monies and being with people whose company I enjoy hella beats sitting around in the car place waiting room trying desperately to ignore the TV that is playing morning daytime talk show stuff.

I feel like I was going to write more but my brain has TL;DR’d out. Time for coffee and catching up on other folks’ posts over on Dreamwidth!

I was wide awake at 6am and happily went back to sleep till nearly 9. Got up slow, and made espresso for myself and SALM while he made fried chicken for the whole family. I put a little too much cayenne in my espresso, but it was good nonetheless.

Shortly after 11 I went and woke Eldest Spawn from his slumber, and we gathered in the living room for giftings. There is no tree, no blinkenlights, and the only ornaments are a snowman from my coworker that I hung on a knob at one end of the hall and a sparkly red ball that got missed in last year’s cleanup and spent the interim hanging on a curtain rod. Nobody cared.

Let me rephrase: nobody minded.

They also did not mind that the “stockings” were oversized CVS bags, and that nothing was wrapped inside them. They delighted in the snacks and the festive popcorn tins and that they each got a toothpaste in a box that is puzzlingly holographic. They were patient and attentive as they went on turns opening their gifts, and the surprise gift I got for Youngest Spawn - a Klein bottle - was an overwhelming success.

Turns out SALM was familiar with the man I bought the bottle from because he famously honeypotted a Russian hacker in the 80s, and now I need to order some books to read.

Everyone was pleased, and now the lads are packing to go to their dad’s. I came upstairs to get dressed and charge my phone, and when I flopped onto the bed my pillow went clunk.

Clunk?!

SALM secreted a really lovely new blank journal under my pillow. It is a marvelous Christmas surprise.

I wonder what I should write in it.