Labor Day

I spent my paid holiday weekend sick as a dog and napping on the couch in between bouts of sneezing and feeling sorry for myself. (I just mis-typed "couch" as "cough" but in retrospect, I guess that wasn't actually a typo at all.)

And I wouldn't have gone in to work today, but we were already short-handed at the office and even the little bit of usefulness I brought with me (truthfully, all my "useful" was not all that helpful)--in addition to the good tissues, cold medicine, and soup for lunch--would be helpful and appreciated.

Thank god the boss comes back from his extended weekend tomorrow.

in which I obsess about my hair

CONFIDENTIAL MEMO TO MY HAIR: The 1980s called; it wants its hair back.

I keep telling myself that I can totally pull this mullet off, but I'm not even buying it myself so I certainly don't expect you to. My husband is a dear and has been very carefully avoiding the "m-word" (Mullet! IT'S A GOD DAMNED MULLET! OMFG!)

And the kids are sweet, but they don't know any better, so all their assertions that "Your hair is cute, mom" don't count, even though I did dye my hair to get rid of the highlights that only accentuated the 1980s-ness of my hair.

I can kind of make it look cute with a headband--or a paper bag over my head--and for now, I've decided against cutting it (again) since a (potentially) more disastrous haircut is the last thing I need. Ever. So "F" it, I'll just rock the mullet for a while, then.