Oh, Woe is Me!

Ever have one of those days? If you are at all human, I'm sure you have, and cringe at me mentioning it. I just had one that lasted the full 24 hours. People here have a saying that bad things come in threes. Amazingly, science took this seriously enough that I read an article where the principle had been tested. They came to the conclusion that people only counted until the third thing had happened and then they felt a finality. Well, my three started about 10:00 on Saturday night...

I had been fighting that terrible internal battle that I believe all women fall prey to at one time of another. For lack of a better name I call it the I hate my hair so much I'm ready to do something terribly rash syndrome. I was there. I had armed myself with two boxes of color from Wal-mart. The girl on the front had hair that looked a lot like my regular hair color, only shiny, faceted, and well... like someone who came from a salon. It was called toasted coconut and was labeled medium blonde. 

I am a chicken about such things and so I was still worried about it. But how bad could it be? (Yeah, I just said that.) My youngest son came in as I was bent over the sink, rubbing horrifically smelling gorp on my head. It was so exciting that he donned gloves and proceeded to help. When I straightened up and piled all seventy-five feet of my hair onto my head, I frowned. "Why does the stuff look brown?" I asked.

My son studied me. "Because it's pulling out any of your dark color to make it blonder," he pronounced. I nodded, but it was half-hearted. It was supposed to stay on 15 minutes. I paced. I complained about how my head was getting hot. I kept looking at the brownish goop and asking again, why was it looking like that? Finally, he told me the time was up.

He followed me to watch it rinse out. Then we both held some up and looked at it in the light. The top was an auburn-y red-brown, while the length faded into a light mouse color that glinted with the oddest olive-greenish grey color. I cannot describe it, and all attempts to photograph it turned out with a flash of red and weird brown. No, I did not cry. I was numb. And really, I had started with a fatalistic expectation of failure.

I went to bed, and guess what? When I woke up, it hadn't been a dream. I yanked it into a bun and wore a large hat to church. Back home, I tied on a head scarf and began the heaps of cooking to do for my pop's 70th birthday party at my house. I had already made the nutmeg custard pie, walnut bars, and a cranberry-port mold the night before, but now I had two potato dishes, yeast rolls, a mixed salad filled with fruit, and stuffed mushrooms to make. That's about the time I realized my purse was missing. I had left it at the Subway after church. 

I started to panic. I could just imagine canceling my cards, losing all my personal stuff, telling my husband... My son called and some beautiful, honest soul had turned in my purse. Then I became flustered that I needed to leave my pots cooking and go get it. My youngest calmed me and said that he would retrieve it. Isn't he great? When he came back I found that every single thing was still inside. Even on a really cruddy day, isn't God amazing? I said a big thank you to my son and the Big Guy and continued on with the cooking.

When I had multiple things in the oven and a moment's breath, I went in to set the table. That is when I found that the tiny tree I decorate with all my great-granny's ornaments had fallen at some point and smashed on the floor. That is the closest I came to crying. My mouth opened and I thought it was to let out a wail, but all I could do was whisper, "Oh, woe is me." I looked at the broken glass and couldn't even pick it up to look. I had to go back in the kitchen and concentrate on something else for a while. 

Let's say that I eventually cleaned up the tree mess, mourning my losses. I finished cooking the dishes. My family all arrived. My dear pop was tickled with the birthday decorations, the masses of food. Everyone ate and ate and we sat at the table and talked for hours. It was such a good night. Such a very good night.

My big three were over. A string of nasty events, but what are they in the larger scheme of things? I have to wait until Wednesday for my hair appointment to probably pay $80 to fix a $16 mistake. Until then I'm going to hide at home and meditate on the sinful nature of vanity...at the same time that I wonder if I want to try bangs. Such is human nature.

 "God's in his heaven, and all's right with the world."