Eight Months and Counting
As you enter the ninth month, you get a little crazy. At least that’s what I remember from my “Expecting Days” and that’s definitely what’s happening during these Sheltering Days.
This morning as I was making coffee, my Covid hair finally pushed me over the edge. I foraged around in the kitchen junk drawer and found a couple of rubber bands and took care of the problem. When I arrived back in the bedroom and handed Nyel his cup, he didn’t even notice.
“Good!” thought I. I guess I can go with this new look — at least around the house. Never mind the scraggly look at the back. I can’t see it and probably my true love won’t notice that either. I figure another eight or nine months and I can bag the rubber bands and comb my long gray locks into a chic coif to be proud of.
Well… you’ll have to admit: so far, anyway, my sense of reality is as frangible (yes, it’s really a word) as ever.
Love it. Love the rubber band colors.
Ha! Yes – the colors are starboard and port worthy!
Love it !! Glad to see that you are keeping your sense of humor. It is difficult now days but necessary to stay sane !!
Priceless. I did something similar at month 5.