Hair. Oranges. Colours. Ow my neck.
Angus got a haircut today, after growing a truly horrible head of hair for over a year. I tried not to say anything because it's his life and bodily autonomy etc. and it was a little amusing how insane it was driving my husband. He usually wore a hat, which made it look borderline acceptable, but once last summer we were in a restaurant so I told him to take his hat off, and when he did I told him to put it back on.
Eve is having a tough week with multiple school-stress meltdowns. She said she doesn't really know why because she's had weeks with an equal number of tests and presentations before. I think it's just freaking November. I got into bed with her last night to rub her back and talk things over to calm her down before going to sleep and to distract her I told her the most horrifyingly offensive joke I ever laughed at. I won't tell it to you because you would have to break off all contact with me in response and I am choosing to believe that that would make some of you sad. It worked, though - she almost laughed her retainer out.
Look at the colours in that picture. Aren't they horrible? It's like they have abruptly expired and I was fine with them for twenty years and now they are poison to my eyes. It's the end of the decade and I'm about to turn fifty and I am seized with the desire to fuck up everything in my house. I don't know exactly what needs to happen, but it needs to be different from how it is now.
I bought the first box of clementines. It seems to me that the first box is always bad, but I don't know if that means I need to wait until later in the season or if the first box will always be bad so I might as well buy it and get it over with. Is this a wacky magical way of thinking which bears no resemblance to logic or reason? Why yes, I believe it might be, and yet here we are.
I am tired and my neck hurts and I can't think of a graceful way to end. Good night, friends. May your oranges be sweet and your physics tests be smooth and effortless.