So I woke up this morning with The Hair.
Normally I get one of two 'dos: the "Tower of Power" (hair going straight up on both sides, like I've just inserted my finger into a light socket) or the "look I'm a Cure groupie!" (flopped all over the place, looking strikingly similar to the nest of a Northwestern Blue Heron.)
Today I woke with, dare I say, Elvis Hair. I'm not sure what I could've done to deserve it. Dream of Graceland? Somehow mystically link to Elvis from the Other Side (of course we both know he's still alive, so that would have to be the Other Side of the country, placing him somewhere near Ashland, Virginia. Just north of Richmond.)
Total pompadour (is that even spelled right?) It was amazing. It's odd to have a "shelf" of hair hanging off you head. Like a built-in baseball cap bill or something. I was trying to figure out if I could use it for gauging distance. Like if my head was looking straight on, and Billy Joe Jim Bob was off in the distance, standing near the gas pumps. If he was just at the tip of my hair, could I actually guesstimate him being 427 feet away? Wow. Hair as a unit of measure. Cool. Maybe that's why mechanics in the 50s had 'em. To figure out distances traveled before an engine gave out. Or measuring cylinder sizes or something.
This was one day where I kinda dreaded taking a shower & losing my Elvis Hair. As soon as the water hit , it was like taking one step backwards from Follicle Nirvana. My hair's back to normal now (pretty good part, thanks for asking.)
It's clean, but I feel kinda hollow.