I am getting a haircut. This is momentous because the last time I had a real haircut was over a year ago and I cried and cried and cried for days because the stupid ass junior stylist chit chatted about going out to bars the whole time she was cutting my hair and I left the salon with a terrible bowl cut despite the detailed description, photos, drawings, comments to her cute hair, and requests to "keep the length." But I'm now biting the bullet, taking the plunge (and every other metaphor), and I've made an appointment with a senior stylist...in three weeks. Election day to be exact. It will be a day full of giant steps, making my political voice heard at my polling place, taking a huge sigh of relief after my November 01 deadline at work, and trimming my locks. My fingers will be crossed (for more reasons than one) until that day.

Just in case, I might take a note of all of the wig shops in my neighborhood. Luckily there are plenty.