Betty Boop curls and Godot

Sooo, yesterday was lovely and in the 50s, so I toddled out to get my hair cut at the local haircutting college, where it costs six bucks. My hair had gotten past the point of long-in-a-good-way (I can put it up out of my way) to long-in-a-bad-way (limp and lifeless and just sort of floppingly *there*) so I brought a photo of how it looked a couple of years ago when I had my first short-ish cut that looked good on me. The student cutting my hair was pleased as punch to have a person who wasn't stressed out about having so much hair lopped off (she was almost giddy when I told her that if it didn't work, it would grow back and that was fine) but unfortunatly my zen-ness about it all sent her into a frenzy of reassurance which actually *did* make me nervous! A curl of hair would fall past my face and she'd sort of laugh uneasily and go, "Wow, I bet you're looking at that and thinking OMG that's a lot of hair! Hahahah! I hope you haven't changed your mind!" I had faith that the haircut would work, it was just me wondering about whether this particular person would be able to execute it, so there were a few anxious moments. But she did well, and the instructor came over and checked it and did a little final polishing of it, and now I have curls and waves all over my head. It's a nice change.

And that night was play-reading. It was Waiting for Godot, which is great because it's a play that I could describe to somebody in fairly accurate terms, but which I've never actually read. There was some half-hearted conversation about What It All Meant when we were done, but frankly we were all really more focused on the red wine and chocolate and the kitten running around being adorable. It's hard to concentrate on Extentialism when there's a kitten demanding you admire her rampant cuteness.