01/11/2010 Winter blues and hat hair
Hello, my name is Lindsay, and I have the winter blues. There. It's out. I've said it. Just a few weeks ago, I was truly looking forward to January. Truly. I hoped for white Saturday mornings with frost on the windows and a windchill frigid enough that it would be INSANE to leave the building. I wanted to curl up on the couch and catch up on our Netflix movies while I sipped tea and knit socks. I wanted to rush home after work to heat up the big pot of leftover soup that we'd made, and shuffle around the apartment in my slippers. Ahhhhh. . . Doesn't it sound nice?
But you see, days ago, I got cranky. Really, really cranky. And moody, which may be the same as cranky, but I was too cranky and moody to objectively differentiate between the two. I became the Debbie Downer incarnate. Work. Home. Bed. Too cold. No fun. Work. Home. Chores. I've even been cantankerous while reading a book on World War II. WORLD WAR TWO. I mean, while reading a story about everything that people had to endure back then, you'd expect me to think, WELL GEE WHIZ, IT'S SWELL THAT I DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT YET ANOTHER AIR RAID IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT! OR WONDER IF I HAVE ENOUGH FOOD STAMPS TO MAKE BREAD! AND HECK, LUCKY THAT I DON'T NEED TO REMIND ALASTAIR MCINTYRE TO PUT THAT LIGHT OUT AGAIN! But no, the moment I close the book I seem to forget that life could be far, FAR WORSE, and my thoughts return to how my winter days are composed of nothing but work and nighttime, and, hmmm, should I have my pity party begin a 2pm or 3pm on Sunday afternoon?
And then it occurred to me- forget the sweaters and matching scarves. Forget the hot cocoa and winter stew. I just want sun. I want long evenings and birds chirping and aimless walks through the neighborhood. I want outdoor seating and a warm breeze that gently melts the ice in my sangria. I want to leave work and have 5 hours of freedom before it's time to go to bed. And, I want to just give my hair a chance to reach its fullest potential.
Which brings me to my second point, which addresses another dreadful and miserable consequence of daily subzero temps. Hat hair. Each morning we women wash, dry, and style our hair. And within minutes of this, we squash it all with a hat. And for the rest of the day it sits like some lifeless flat being on my head, making me seem like one of those girls who does nothing with their hair but really SHOULD. Now, I've tried to be brave. I've tried going without the hat. But no, the cold air and wind can be as equally disastrous, and I value tremendously the warmth provided to me by my balaclava.
This weekend, when I was having my winter pity party, I may have felt in the dumps but my hair looked FANTASTIC. And that's because I didn't leave the house to go trudging along the sidewalk or smoosh myself into a train. I've been going to the same hair stylist for the past couple years, a cool guy named Denny, who I think can tell I'm not a total girly girl and likes to fill me in on his high maintenance clients who watch him every second to make sure he highlights every strand of their hair as directed. Me, I just sit there and go through my fill of celebrity gossip magazines, letting him do whatever, while exclaiming out loud to him from time to time, "THEY'RE PREGNANT? WHAT, HAVE THEY BEEN DATING FOR LIKE 3 WEEKS? " I called Denny last week after coming to the hectic conclusion that my hair needs to be chopped off as quickly as possible. "Hello can I help you? ""Yes, hi, I need to make an appointment for a hair cut and color with Denny. ""Okay, when are you available? ""Wait- is this Denny? ""Yes. ""Hey Denny! It's Lindsay! ""Oh hey. How are you? ""My hair Denny. It's driving me crazy. " And then suddenly I found myself just spewing out all my problems to him on the phone. Not real life problems, but my hair problems. I think I frightened him a little bit in fact. And I hope he doesn't think that I didn't like my last hair cut. Because I did. It's just WINTER. It screws everything up. So, now that I've got that out of my system, I suppose it's time to wrap up this here blog post and turn on the electric blanket before bed. Tonight, I hope I will dream of summer. And when I wake up it will be June. If only I had coupons for sunscreen. . .
