Hi, yes... I'm thirty and I'm wearing all my hair on top of my head in a ridiculously oversized bun. Why? Because I didn't want to wash it last night or this morning. Because I thought it would work. Because I live on the edge. It's two hours till close at work, and the thing is still up, mostly, stacked precariously and held loosely by a hair band and bobby pins, rolling over to one side a little. In my mind, it's just about to break loose, with enough stray hairs to tether a hot air balloon. My window is open to my right, breeze blowing, and even though my armpits are sweating, and I close it to a crack because I worry about defectors. Hairs that just give up the ghost, lose their will to stand upright.
The girls downstairs, and even the boss's son who stopped by to say hi to pa, have commented on my hair today and how good it looks. I sent a picture of an "I'm over it" me-with-bun to my boyfriend today, grumbling about how one side of my head hurt because the roots of my hair don't like being told what to do... basically to stand on their heads (or mine) when they're used to sloughing off.
I have restless body syndrome, and I can't stop swinging my crossed leg back and forth-- pumping, actually. My back doesn't hurt today, which came as a welcome surprise, and to celebrate, I'm wearing a tee shirt and tank top and sweater. Even though the day is warm for a NW summer. The sweater is white, and it's camouflage so I'm not wearing all black like a witch (yeah, charcoal gray long skirt and black t-shirt). Also, the board room is ridiculously cold in the summer, with AC blasting like a 90's boom box. Hence: sweater.
I'm still pumping my leg, sitting at my desk, going over the month's billing cycle.
Half an hour to go, and I'm swinging my foot moderately.
Ten minutes, and still going.
ADHD.
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