I’m afraid the little man may be destined for his very own history of bad hair gallery. Yesterday I foolishly acquiesced to the husband, allowing him to cut the lad’s hair. Immediately afterwards it looked like the little man had cut it himself. That’s not to say that those who cut their own hair end up with bad results (Spacewaitress did a lovely job of cutting her own hair, as did Receptionista, and my friend David has looked fabulous without paying for a haircut in years), but I imagine most people wouldn’t want a haircut that looked like it was done by a five year-old. I would have further documented the event but my camera batteries crapped out on me.
Today we braved the elements, more out of boredom than need. We went to the Wedge to replenish our supply of Taiwanese vegetarian chicken nuggets (they’re the only place in town that carries the brand the little man is partial to), and to Heavenly Soles to replenish my supply of Ken Brown’s “wrap city” wrapping paper (over the years I’ve spent more money there on random stuff than on shoes).
For this Uptown errand-running expedition we dragged along a friend who lives in that area. He is currently facing a crisis I’m not unfamiliar with…being without heat. In Minnesota. In January. Not a situation anyone should be in. The first winter I spent in this house the little man was just an infant. One bitterly cold morning I woke up to find my room felt more like the outdoors then in. Going downstairs to check the thermostat I found it was 52 degrees and dropping. It took two full days of dicking around by a heating repair service and my utility company before the cause was determined and the heat was back. In the interim we didn’t have anywhere to go (after work and daycare) so we holed up in my bedroom, along with the two cats and a space heater. I was lucky my pipes didn’t freeze. Ugh. My friend’s situation is a little different, because he is renting his apartment. The boiler in the basement of his building, ironically named the Indestructo, broke down Friday night. Apparently his landlord couldn’t do jackall and is sending a professional in tonight. I hope that does the trick. Also while out and about I donned a new scarf for the first time, one that my mother-in-law’s mother made for me. Unfortunately it began falling apart. I hadn’t yet decided if I loved or loathed it anyhow (the colors aren’t what I would have chosen, but the texture was interesting).
Bonus: “Do you speak American?” - an article about Buffy-speak.
