So, it's no secret that my hubby is looking for a job. His training is up next summer, and now is the time to begin the hunt for our next stomping ground. To put it mildly, this is frustrating. It's frustrating because I'm on the sidelines, which is VERY hard for such a enthusiastic (translation: controlling) person as myself. I am constantly "encouraging" (translation: nagging) my husband if he has contacted so and so, or mailed this, or thought about that- and sometimes that provokes stress (translation: outright hostility and hibernation) in my dearly beloved. Sigh. I am a nice person, really.
In other news, I dragged my hung over self (yeah Cooking Club!) to the hairdressers to undo the havoc that happened to my hair last Saturday. I needed a haircut in the worst way- it was really looking dire, and my normal hairdresser was flat out booked for 2 weeks. So, throwing caution to the wind, because Hey! It's only hair! Hair you have to live with EVERY FRICKIN DAY, I scheduled an appointment for someone else at the same salon. This woman completely ignored everything I asked her to do, made me look like an inflated Nicole Richie AND finished the haircut in the Olympic finishing time of 30 minutes. Before I could even ask where my cup of herbal tea or neck massage was- I was being tossed out the door with a non-flattering fringe cut that makes my face look like it should get its own Macy's Day Parade. So my normal hairdresser squeezed me in for a color (translation: highlights and please re-cut my hair on the sly because I'm passive aggressive and don't want your co-worker to know that she cuts hair like a chimpanezee, I'm more than happy to just insult her without her knowing) and now I feel much better. Much poorer, but better.