Doesn’t Play Well With Glasses
My wig came via Fed Ex today. I’m pretty sure I’m going to return it.
I look like my friend, Dick’s, mom – when she was 99 and 3/4 years old. There’s no gray in the wig. There was no gray in Dick’s mom’s wig.
Hot! Tight! Doesn’t play well with glasses! And I hadn’t even worn it for more than half an hour.
I wanted one because I wanted to have it for the nicer restaurants. But after putting it on and futzing with it, I realized that I can hold off on the nicer restaurants until I have my old-school buzz cut that I’ve had before.
Good god. I am so not a wig person. But at least I tried, right?
Baseball caps are welcome at Psycho Suzi’s, Hell’s Kitchen, and Mac’s Industrial Sports Bar.
The cleaning people just left. I love the cleaning people. And I’m pretty sure that Stella agrees because while the cleaning people were here for a little over 2 hours, she and I sat in the back yard. Together. I brushed her with the Furminator. I brushed her so much she might want to keep the wig.
I’m in a mood to cook something. Not much of something. Maybe a couscous chicken salad sort of something. So off the the grocery store I go.