Sunday, July 17, 2011


I am messy. This is not some existential acknowledgment. I am literally a messy person -- I have to begrudgingly impose structure on myself to keep things clean and organized in a lot of areas of my life. And every six weeks I am reminded of how innately messy I am by the hour or so it takes to re-color my hair.

Every time it is an exercise in futility to not get hair dye everywhere it is not supposed to be. It's a minor miracle I have managed to remove hair dye stains from the odd places I have managed to get it in the bathroom: sinks, cabinet doors, the floor, the moldings, the mirrors, the tub, the back of the door. The only place I haven't scrubbed clean of dye is the ceiling, but there's always that possibility. If I'm not careful, I can make the place look like a crime scene in no time. I have this image of the CSI team studying the splatter patterns and being completely mystified at what could have possibly gone in this space.

I have two small hair dye towels that are supposed to act as drop cloths and catch any drips from the bottle during application. The problem is, I can't stand still enough. I would need to drop cloth the entire bathroom to really get anywhere.

I also have a hair dye shirt (lovingly called my Goop Shirt) that makes it look like I'm starring in a slasher flick. But this month it has mysteriously disappeared. I blame this on my reorganization of my drawers a couple of weeks ago. I tried to put everything in its place so now I can't find anything when I need it.

Bob has a giant Joe's Crab Shack tee that was turned into a cut-off after it was washed into oblivion, and which, since he's lost so much weight, now swallows him and he was about to throw out. Behold, a new Goop Shirt, because I know very well there is zero chance any shirt I wear when I color my hair will ever be worn in public again.

And apart from the clothing and surroundings, there is the matter of the skin. I do not know how other ladies ever manage not to create the terribly attractive leopard spots along their hair line and on the ears, and the back of the neck .  .  . but it is a skill that is simply beyond my abilities.

Look, a butterfly! We can do Rorschach tests from the messes I make.

I suppose blogging about this is a way of just embracing it -- I'm messy. And I'm okay with that, at least after the grumbling and huffing around cleaning up after myself is finished. :)


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