I've had bangs for a long time. I rarely wear them down and when I do they're swept to the side. I always think that maybe some day I'll style them and pull off the quirky, adorable, it-suits-me-even-though-it-shouldn't style ala Zooey Deschanel. So I keep them around. Yesterday started out like - Ooh yea, I can pull this off. I didn't hit the quirky cute mark like Zooey but still, not bad! I had saucy bangs and felt mighty fine.
The bathroom flooded and flooded and flooded.
Every pipe in the house started rumbling and then the water heater and every drain in the house bubbled and gurgled - not good.
My car wouldn't start (and probably wont ever again. She made horrible death rattle sounds and coughed blue smoke.)
My mother had a really rough recovery day.
It began to rain outside but not a downpour, more like gentle constant spitting with a cold breeze. The perfect weather cocktail for some really bad hair.
So the day took a fast turn and my bangs were a great indicator of our mental state as a family; frazzled, out of wack and plonked. Yerp we plonked.
My "Hot Mama Saucy Fringe" quickly turned to "Old Hag Wearing a 14 Year Old's Haircut circa 1997." Complete with cowlicks.
In the vlog my bangs had recovered a tad. I did my best since I knew we'd be out in public getting plumbing supplies. If you look closely in the video, you'll see I have a few new silvery friends that have joined the rest of my mop up top. I saw them when I was editing the footage and actually, I don't mind them. They're totally battle scars from the stress of this past year but I looked at them closely when I got home and ya know, they're kinda pretty! They're like sparkly threads from a unicorn's mane.
I spose I'll end it with that. I'm a sparkly old unicorn who had a good hair day, turned bad, turned good again. All's well that ends well, right?