My hat...

COVID, COVID, everywhere.

Think I'll just destroy my hair.

This pandemic has been just...awesome. Babe has been working from home since March...last year. He first planted himself on the couch in the living room, but we home school and live here all day, so he made his office in the classroom (did I mention we home school?) and just recently moved into a bedroom that had earlier been vacated by another of our children because she's nineteen and that's enough of a reason. Thankfully, I really like that guy, so it only annoys when he snaps at us (as much as Babe ever snaps) if we get too loud, which happens sometimes because, and I can't stress this enough, we home school and also live here. 

As a result of the way we were already living our lives, the pandemic and resulting shut down of all the things hasn't been as traumatic for us as it has been for the rest of America. My kids continued their educational pursuits without needing to transition from anywhere, but the classroom to the kitchen. See above paragraph for reference.

I decided the best way to treat COVID fever (not the actual virus) was to experiment with my hair, and have done so with reckless abandon. I've pinked it, blued it, blonded it, pinked it again, silver toned it, blue silver toned it (for Ennie's wedding) and then copper-toned it. I've loved every iteration of my lovely locks, but this treatment has caused a lot of damage, as you can well imagine. Thus I have made it a point to keep it well managed.

It ain't cheap to fiddle with one's hair if one desires to keep said hair locked onto one's noggin, so I was getting the work done by competent individuals, because I know what I am and it ain't competent. So, because I sometimes make poor decisions, and hadn't made one in a while, I decided to get my hair cut at a place that shall remain nameless because 1. I'm embarrassed I sunk so low and 2. They should be embarrassed by what they did to my hair.

The air head who cut my hair had a far away look and was humming to herself for the duration of my hair cut. Why didn't I stop her, you ask? Because sometimes you have to trust the process. This was not one of those times. 

When she "finished" the cut, she asked what I thought. I showed her the picture of the cut I had asked for. Note that this:

Does not look like this:

Not even a little bit, yet she seemed to think it was spot on. She called her manager over and this lady must have suffered from the same myopia because she seemed confused by my insistence that no, it wasn't the cut I wanted. No one in their right mind would ask for this on purpose.

The manager apologized and said she would comp my haircuts until it grew back. Jokes on her, I'm NEVER going back because I have learned my lesson.

I slunk back to my hair dresser and asked her to do what she could to fix the mess on my head. The photo above is what she was able to fix. There were long pieces and short pieces and pieces that I'm still trying to grow out and this happened in October. 

While I appreciated what my hair dresser was able to accomplish, it was still not cute, so I decided to make a hat...some hats. I made so many hats.

I wore a hat every day for months. 

It's nine months later and my hair still isn't long enough for the the style I wanted, but at least it doesn't look like I've got a raging case of the mange anymore. Lesson learned and little victories are still victories. Email me if you would like me to make you a hat. I still have plenty of yarn.