I woke up this morning feeling like—as my friend, Lily, so delicately puts it—dog shit on the bottom of God’s shoe. Also, furious. But I pulled on my swimsuit, intending to take it out in the water. Except I was 90 minutes early.
I raced to the nearest salon. “Can someone cut my hair right now?”
“Yes!” the hapless pixie piped. “And today all haircuts are $10!”
“Great. Shave it all off. I can’t stand it another second. I’m tired of trying to look like something.”
And I left feeling like my outside finally matched my inside. Furious. And the closest I’ll ever come to looking like Charlize Theron.
I roared off to misbehave and brought home two bags full of art supplies. Now we’ll see what fury can really do.