I had to beg for an appointment to get my hair cut in time for the Pennwriters conference.  I meant to call and get it cut months ago.  Time got away from me.  I meant to make an appointment with my stylist a couple of weeks ago but things got hectic, and I forgot until the next time my hair was driving me crazy. 

     With the weather getting warmer, and my hair long and thick enough to make me pay in sweat, I couldn’t stand it any more.  The wooly cap had to go. 

     This time I left sticky notes all over my computer, the bathroom mirror, and the coffee pot to remind me to call yesterday.  Yes, if I hadn’t done that, I probably would’ve forgotten AGAIN.  My brain hasn’t been functioning well for the last couple of months.

     I called right after I had my first cup of coffee.  They had no openings.  ACK!  My stylist is the only one I trust to make this mass of frizz look good.  I begged and pleaded.  I explained I needed this unruly mop cut and under control for the writers conference.  Although it is true, I didn’t want to use it, I am ashamed to say that I even played the death in the family card. 

     The day before I leave for the conference my stylist will cut my hair.  PHEW!