Hair of the Dog?

Tim is working from home today in order to not be stuck in the traffic that has already begun to clog the highway. So when Josh went down for his morning nap at about 9:30, I quickly threw on clothes and dashed out to run some errands, since this is the first time I've had access to a car all week. (Oh yeah...I haven't mentioned the car saga yet, have I? I'll get to that - maybe I'll wait til we have a finale on the thing at this point.)

First on the list was to drop off Tim's heart monitor at the UPS store now that his monitoring period is over. That's probably another long story I haven't mentioned, isn't it? I guess I'll start with that (or perhaps simply sum up because it is too much) - you might remember when Tim started having stress issues. I don't know that I ever mentioned that the heart racing etc. eventually landed us in the emergency room with Tim absolutely convinced that he was having a heart attack. He wasn't. But I'll tell you, the best way to jump to the front of the ER line is to have something wrong with your heart. After stress tests and EKGs and other such things, he ended up on Propanalol and the racing ended. But after two-ish years, they figured that they should make sure he still needed to be on it, so they've weaned him off, put him through the stress tests and EKGs (EEGs? It's an E and G and something in the middle.) And then 21 days of heart monitoring. They think they caught one 8 minute episode during those 21 days and have given him a name of what he has that I don't currently remember but the basic diagnosis is: your heart occasionally races for a few minutes. It's fine.

Since they gave a return label, Tim tried first calling for pick up, but residential pickups cost money, so I said I'd drop it on my errand run. Then we had an entertaining discussion about whether or not you could drop a UPS package at a FedEx/Kinkos. Turns out the store I was thinking of was a UPS Store, not a FedEx/Kinkos, so it was moot, but it might've been amusing.

Anyway. Right next door is the Hair Cuttery and as I'm well overdue for a haircut (owing to how horrible it was to get my last haircut with the little one tagging along so I've been waiting for such a time when I could run out while Tim was home.) So in I popped to get my hair trimmed. The lady I'd seen before wasn't in today, so as my typical thought about haircuts is "Hair Grows", I just took whoever was up.

First off, if you're in an interactive profession, you must learn to speak up. There is no room for quiet talkers in the beauty shop. At a minimum, the person whose hair you're cutting needs to hear you ask her to come back to the washing station. Once I finally clued in, I toddled back and as she began to wash my hair I heard a little choking noise. I didn't really think about it, but then it happened again. And it continued to happen all through the haircut and all I could figure out was that it sounded as if she was trying desperately not to vomit. This, in turn, led me to wonder if it was morning sickness, a hangover, or if she was just generally grossed out by hair (which would mean she'd made a really bad choice of professions). In the end, I couldn't figure out a way to ask if she was feeling ok without it being...well...weird, so I just smiled, paid, and went on to the post office.

Looking at my hair? I'm voting for hangover.