So, without much ceremony, here are my three thinks for the day:
Hairdresser's Basins - Since I was a child I've dreaded the part where the hairdresser makes you go through to the basin to have your hair washed. More often than not, the seat is way too low or the basin way too high, so you're left either standing on your toes or hanging by your ears. The space where your head should go is always so narrow that you fear death by squashing and the first blast of water ALWAYS GOES IN YOUR EARS. Really not the best part of the experience - until yesterday. I decided to go slightly blonde for a change. Firstly, I was very surprised to find a hairdresser who actually listened to me and was excited by the prospect of giving me exactly what I want - which has not happened often in the past (I'll save those horror stories for another time). When she asked me to step through to the basin, I started to freeze up, but when I turned the corner and actually saw the basins, the world stopped and I could hear angels singing. The chair was slightly lifted and tilted back, in fact turning it into a mini bed. The space in the basin for your head was wide and molded and I sighed in satisfaction as I lay down in it. The lady washing my hair had turned the water on beforehand and the temperature was perfect. She kept the wash short and sweet and I actually managed to relax. What a revelation. Thanks guys, I'm definitely going back to you.
Silence - I love it. Cannot get enough of it. There is something soothing to it for me. I sometimes imagine the silence coming around me and then pressing in on me. I find it thick, heavy, and absolutely blissful. Sometimes, when I wake at night, I'll sit up and listen to it, closing my eyes and smiling like an idiot to the sound of nothingness. It's beautiful. I don't know what I'd do without it - I need it to function properly. I've mentioned before that thoughts and ideas tend to hop and bounce around in my head, all fighting for supremacy. When there's complete and utter silence, these balls of thoughts seem to stop, crouch down and hush up. Suddenly, the world makes sense again.
The Washing - Notice I put a "the" in front, as it's become an entity of its own, like "The Eiffel Tower" or "The Pyramids". Just when I think I've won, when I folded and put away the last clean shirt, I turn around to find a dirty sock peeking out from under the bed, laughing at me like a naughty child because I missed it the first time. I tell myself it's OK, that I will just throw it in the wash basket and see to it on another day - it's only one sock, after all. However, as I bend over to pick it up, my eye catches the other sock in the pair, awkwardly twisted around the foot of the bedside table. I sigh and pick that up too, trying to keep my composure. Walking to the wash basket, I spot a jersey, lying forgotten on the couch. I collect that too, still halfway calm. When I finally reach the basket, though, I find it already brimming with a muddy shirt, a dishcloth I haven't seen for ages and a wet towel. I cannot even begin to fathom where they came from. They were definitely not there two hours ago. It's inexplicable, unthinkable and incredibly demotivating. In frustration, I stuff everything down into the basket, turn and shut the door behind me. I refuse to look at the basket for days, because I'm still angry. Then, round about Day 5 (No More Underwear Day), I find my husband standing in front of his closet, shifting his weight from one foot to another. He looks at me from the corner of his eye, not sure if it would be considered wise to raise the issue. So I sigh and go to face The Washing one more time. Surely I'll beat it today.
So that's what's on my mind today. Here's to never-ending washing, a few moments of silence and covering your ears at the hairdresser's.
PS Am I the only bad housekeeper out there?
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