The digital atomic clock that sits on a bookshelf is impossible to program the time, so for the past months it's been one hour behind. As of this morning, the time is correct. Have fiddled with the technological nightmare, to no avail. There are certain instances when the human must let the clock win.
Picked out a hairstyle that am going with this summer, starting now. Cannot hack the longish hair. Am too much of a sweaty-betty, even if I put it up. It's a pixie-bob style advertised for us gals who have been whipped into submission by the years. Sure wish I knew where the real me went.
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| Pixie-Bob |
In our younger years, we poked fun at older women with blue hair. Poor dears were just trying to look nice. Heck, at my last appointment my stylist tried putting a lavender tint, but my gray hair didn't take to it. Not trying that again this time, but later in the summer just might. Depends on my mental condition. If depression and anxiety overtake me, then just might try something silly to spiff up the spirits. The only thing that could make me look better is a Walmart sack over my head!
This week we have two parties to look forward to.....one at our house on the 17th and another at our dear friends' home in another town. Little Cuddy gets to be involved in both. Next week is when our puppysitting term expires, and already there's a void settling into the pit of my tummy at the very thought of giving him back to his rightful owners. He and I have grown so attached. At night, he snuggles up close to me. I'll wake up, and can feel his warm little body tucked up close to mine. Just thinking about it fills my eyes with tears.
Cuddy's groomer asked if we'd like to have a little dog of our own. When she came out to meet us, this little white fuzzy thing ran out of the house. OMG. He'd have been ours if we'd have wanted. But, we know better at our age than to assume a responsibility like that. A few years younger, and it'd have been a different story. We'd best concentrate on caring for ourselves.
Sounds like warmer weather is on the way, up in the 50s and 60s. That means I'll have to go to the hardware store and buy a weed whacker to shave my legs.
Well, best shower and get ready for a quiet Sunday. Stay safe.