Shaven and shorn
We gave Nico his first haircut today and I didn't even cry! I had been dragging my feet, but I finally admitted something needed to be done. He'd been looking pretty shaggy for several weeks, and the curls in the back get (got...past tense. Sob!) knotted when he sleeps on them, so it was past due. MB was completely confident that he could do it himself and ultimately he was right, even though I fretted out loud for nearly the whole procedure.
(Cute but shaggy)
Actually, for never having any official training in hair cuttery -- and considering his client was a bit of a drama queen -- I think MB did an excellent job.
The first cut is the deepest!
I suppose we won't really know until it's dry tomorrow morning whether or not this was a mistake, but it looks promising. Despite joking that I should bring him a mixing bowl in which to collect the clippings, MB didn't remove that much hair. He did laugh at me for tying up the cut curls with little bits of thread, but I maintain that he is the weirdo. Every woman I told about Nico's impending haircut this week immediately said, "You're saving a curl, right?" So clearly, MB is the one who's crazy, not me. Clearly.
And some other stuff
I'm supremely annoyed that after it rained damn near fourteen inches in April (that's what she said), we finally get two gorgeous May days in a row and I'm sick with either a weird allergy attack or a beshitted Spring cold. I've got that thing going where one nostril will suddenly become uncomfortably clogged, my sinuses are achy, and my throat hurts. So it's beautiful out and I feel like crap. FAIL, immune system. FAIL.
I turned some of my rage on the unholy mess that was my side of the office today at work. My supervisor was out, so I was able to pull all the boxes and piles of crap out from the shelves and the paper sorting tray stack thing and the top of the filing cabinet and under the desk. At one point I think I had half of the room blocked by piles and boxes and more piles. By lunch I had developed a deep and abiding hatred for bookends that don't actually hold up books. Once I was finished, though, it was so much better. I've been meaning to get around to this for a year or more. Maybe years. I haven't decided yet if it should count for my Year of Decluttering list, but I did recycle an entire gigantic bin full of useless papers I've been holding onto for ages for no good reason. Anyway, because I have them, here are before, during, and after photos. The shelves above the desk were awful and annoying and cluttered before, but for some reason I didn't think to include them in the first photo.
If you read a book that has a sequel, do you feel compelled to read the sequel no matter what? I'm almost finished with The Book of the Dun Cow, a book I'd vaguely meant to read for years and finally picked up at the library last month, and I'm not sure if I should read the second book or not. It only has one review on LibraryThing, which states: "Depressing in a particularly icky insidious way. The only book I’ve ever read that makes me wish I could have the memory of it surgically removed from my brain and replaced with a note saying Do. Not. Read." So, yeah. And I don't particularly love the first book, either. I don't hate it, I just don't love it. Probably a solid mediocre three out of five stars. I usually give a sequel a try, but I'm thinking I might give myself a pass on this one.
This relates in no way to anything else, but it made me laugh. Two of my cousins (who are sisters but do not live together) are hoping to get chickens this Spring. I was talking to one of them on the phone earlier this week about maybe coming to get this gigantic old round corn crib from the park where I work. We're trying to get rid of it anyway and it would be a great coop for just a few hens. (It's like this, though that's not our corn crib in the photo.) Before we got off the phone she said she was going to be pissed if her sister got chickens before she did since she's been wanting them for years. "We're in a chicken arms race!" she declared, and I've been giggling over that ever since. Oh, and speaking of chickens, here is a totally rad article about a rooftop farm in NYC. A farm! In Brooklyn!
MB and I were invited out on a double date with the bibliophile and Mr. Bitter on Monday night. It was our first dinner out with adults and no kids in ages and ages. After we ate we went to see the 25th anniversary screening of Top Gun and holy crap, that is a cheeseball movie. I loved it in middle school and watched it incessantly. The soundtrack was the first CD I ever bought for myself. So cringeworthy! We had a really good time, though.
I was reminded the other day why I love Twitter after my initial skepticism. I hope the other Twitter-er doesn't mind me sharing it:
torturedpotato There are two sleeping children in my house. Thank you, Whoever, for this gift.
velocibadgerGRL @torturedpotato *makes burnt offering*
torturedpotato @velocibadgerGRL *very quiet burnt offering*
velocibadgerGRL @torturedpotato *smallest, least crackly flames ever to burn*
torturedpotato @velocibadgergrl *no smell! no smell!*
velocibadgerGRL @torturedpotato *cloaks flame to hide light*
torturedpotato @velocibadgergrl *goes up in flames* SHIT!
velocibadgerGRL @torturedpotato (on second thought, maybe we should just do a microwave offering)
I pretty much lost it at "no smell! no smell!"
I need to stop before this gets (even more) ridiculous, but here's one last thing:
Chicken arms race!