I chopped off all my hair. By "I" I mean Morgan, and by "I" I mean Derek, which is to say, I let my husband cut my hair. *GASP*
I just couldn't take it anymore! It was too long to be good curly, so it was yucky curly, and any attempts at straightening it failed. Spencer tries to eat it and it gets pulled. SO! I handed him the scissors and away he went. He really did great work.
WHY? You ask, Did I not go to a Salon or a Barber, or at least somwhere with someone who had cut hair at least once before? I meant to, but we got busy and I knew if I didn't do it today, it would be a week before I got the chance again. I couldn't live with that. So, Derek cut it.
It's not bad! I swear!
Oh, and we're buying a couch, which is far more stressful than I ever would have imagined. Buying a car was really truly not this difficult. Do we get green or tan? AHHHHHH??? The question lingers in the corner of my brain contantly. It hurts.