*It is recommended that you read the post below (TGR: The Day You Wash Your Hair) before coming to this one.
A wonderfully apt illustration by Edward Monkton, whom I consider to be one of the most talented and humorous people there must be in the world.
This morning I hauled myself out of bed real early just so I could squeeze in a good shower before my 10am seminar. If you would like to hear me extol the wondrous merits of The Day You Wash Your Hair, please refer to the post below. As I was leaving uni in the afternoon, I stepped out of the studio, tripped on a huge cement block someone conveniently decided to leave right out the door, survived that, and proceeded to step into a light drizzle. A light drizzle. On my freshly washed hair, still vivacious and full of life.
At that moment, I flung my eyes to the cloudy heavens, and whispered, ‘oh please God, no. I just washed my hair today.’
I think I might be beginning to see why God sent the flood in the story of Noah’s Ark.
Me Thinks: There is nothing better than the feeling of having your hair washed after dirt and grease has piled up for abit, and, simultaneously, nothing more crushing than having to weather undesirable elements on the day that you do. Even more so on a day when I had committed the Londoner’s ultimate boo-boo: stepping out of the house without an umbrella.
All I can say is, thank the Lord for hoods.