Day 4: Kitchen is done. There is touch-up painting to be done. Quite a bit, in fact. It should not take long, though. Also, the half bath in the kitchen has the first paint coat done, and I will finish that up tomorrow. It is small, so it was very easy. Painting near the toilet grossed me out, but I survived.
After tomorrow, we are taking a hiatus for a day or two. Painting is consuming and tiring. Plus, our house is a wreck. So, I will finish the half bath tomorrow, and I will get the kitchen back in order. I would do it tonight, but I can barely see straight.
I am so tired that I actually got on here to blog about something entirely different, but I totally forgot what it was.
Oh, wait, I now remember. I am getting my hair highlighted and cut (nothing major) on Wednesday. Which reminded me that 2007 will go down in history was the worst hair year of my life. I may have already recapped the year, but it definitely would make VH1’s “Worst Year Ever” (does that show exist? I know Best Year Ever does!).
January: I find out two days before January that I am pregnant. With pregnancy comes hormones. Hormones that turn my hair curly. Not a cute curly. Just a pain in the rear curly. (Not a literal pain in the rear, although, a few months more of pregnancy will bring such a significant pain in the rear that it is hard for me to walk….but I digress….)
Fortunately, hormones have effected my hair, but they have not effected my brain….yet.
August: Possibly in the worst hair decision ever made (I never have had a perm, and I have never had bangs….so I was saved from those 80s/90s disasters), I decide to have my hair done at a beauty school. Eight months pregnant. Five hours of sitting. Two hours of that under the hot dryer. In August. At 8 months pregnant. And after all that, my hair comes out orange.
December: The night before I leave for Brett’s cousin’s wedding, I get the bright idea that I should dye my own hair. Being thrifty, this sounds like a good option. Until it comes out looking like a spotted owl. Or maybe a leopard. Whichever is uglier. I, then, make another bad decision in what is quickly proving to be the worst hair year ever and go really dark brown.
Me = meant to be a blonde. Me = looks bad in brown hair.
Which all leads to my journey back to blonde. Folks, it is a lot easier to turn blonde hair brown than to turn brown hair blonde. Which is why it’s a journey.
A journey that shall end on Wednesday. I hope.