You know, at the beginning of the year, my only resolution was to not cut my hair. And, technically, I didn’t. I just trimmed it. A little. S. did a hell of a good job, and I feel lovely being properly coiffed again.
Had dinner and drinks with the local CoF group, and M.N. talked me into an apple martini. This is mostly because I’ve always got my Diet Coke to sip on, and I feel like it’s the Southern version of “I’ll have a Shirley Temple, please” when out with the grownups. But today was one of those days that required it. End result: No gym time, and I barely made it home to The West Wing.
I’d write more, but then I wouldn’t have anything to write about tomorrow.