Because If Cybill Shepherd's Worth It, So Am I

I'm breaking my writer's block-driven blogging strike to announce that the $40 I gave to a hairstylist today was entirely well-spent, even in light of the fact that we have nothing but lint in our pockets these days. In fact, it would take huge units of measure, like tons and eons and miles, to quantify how much better I feel. This is a truth I started to suspect while paying attention to some of my students, who I know make less money than I do and have two, three, four, five kids besides, but still show up to class with brand new hair weaves and professionally groomed eyebrows. I, in contrast, tend to dispense with my personal appearance first when money is tight, until it all melts down into a puddle of I-can't-remember-the-last-time-I-bought-a-new-shirt-and-I-have-to-pin-my-bangs-back-when-I-eat-so-they-don't-go-in-my-mouth. And then I go crazy. So I'm starting to develop a strategy for taking care of myself that doesn't involve credit cards or having to occasionally skip paying the electric bill. The haircut I couldn't really afford was step one.

Also, on a totally unrelated note, since I'm still refusing to get a Twitter account: over the last few days, I think my downstairs neighbor has given up on recording music and switched to recording industrial noise.