over a weekend:
– hair dye,
– the (almost perfect) black cardigan sweater I have been seeking for months in, you know, clothing stores. Silly me,
– bread made of rye and flax and no wheat and no yeast, sold in a sensible half loaf size because who could eat a whole loaf of rye and flax bread?
– cheese made of goat’s milk. It tastes like creamy cheddar. Its name is Caprano and it will last 330 days! Saputo has never seen me eat cheese. Goat’s milk cheese is safe because it contains a far less evil dose of the offending protein casein than does cow milk.
– an attractive area rug (not purchased, but admired. Rugs! At Superstore!),
– muppet gloves
– duck slippers that quack when you press the duck head (also not purchased)(also come in cow, monkey, dog and cat)(but not goat. The world needs more things that make goat noises!) and, possibly best of all,
– Tayo, the potato-based dairy free beverage! Potato milk! Potato milk!
Tomorrow, after my breakfast, I will let you know whether it really is the best thing since vodka. For cereal, anyway.
My hair was angry because I bleached it and then left it to fry in the open air. So I bought hair dye in my usual reddish brown shade ( Sarah’s new favourite hair dye has it just about right – there really are only five shades of hair dye; Red, orange, yellow, brown and black. Yet we stand, rooted in the hair dye isle, debating between Indian Poppy and Tahitian Sunset and Toasted Mustard Seed, willfully ignoring that they are all the same colour in different boxes. [We do ask to be sold this nonsense, really]) and took it home. And for the first time in one…two…10 years of hair-dying at home, never once with a single incident, never once even considering doing the bogus “sensitivity test” where you buy the hair dye one day, then wait 48 hours before actually dying your hair (HA! The biggest impulse buy in the world, bigger than crack cocaine, is hair dye. More addictive, too) I actually screwed up hair dye.
I mean: I have dyed my hair and the hair of other people while drunk and while singing along to The Beach Boys and while studying for Statistics midterms and with a bandaged finger that got put through a meat slicer and while engaging in philosophical discussions around issues of great import, such as The Adorable Boy and does he Love Us? and Why oh Why must the Adorable Boy not Love Us? and Do you Suppose the Adorable Boy will Love Us more or Less Come Tomorrow when He Sees Us with our Fabulous Vivacious Russian Roulette Red Hairdos? and while doing all of the above at the same time. Never have I screwed up.
So I emptied the contents of tube A into the bottle, as usual. But tube A was not, as I thought, the tube of magic colour that makes the bad smell in the bottle with the shaking using one gloved finger to cover the hole in the applicator lid, shake gently, pointing away from the face oh no, it was the tube of conditioner. I added conditioner to the developer liquid. I would like to blame the manufacturers for this, as the two tubes are quite similar, but I must also take some responsibility, as I am perhaps more of a true professional hair dy-or than anyone who works in the hair dye factory, making the tubes and filling them with goop.
I did not call 1-800-Clairol for help. I should have, because I was a) changing hair colours b) colouring over bleached hair and c) not paying attention, but I didn’t. I just added the colour tube as well and then I had a very full bottle of goop which went on my head like normal goop do and rinsed off like normal goop do, too.
So now you know, drunken girls who google with your red-tinged fingers. You CAN put it all on your head at once and nothing bad will happen. Probably.
