My roots just shot clean out my head in the past couple days. "That's cause you're mad," said my student yesterday. She said it with utter confidence, like she was an anger/follicle expert. "When you get mad, your hair comes out."
Well, it did come out, with a vengeance, so now I'm writing you while I have root dye on and I have five more minutes before I gotta rinse it off.
In the meantime, I've been trying to find a mover, and I did get boxes, and I can't believe I am moving again, four months later. There are snowdrop flowers in the back yard here, and I was so looking forward to seeing what this pretty yard did in the spring. I was excited about the porch swing, too. I always wanted to be proposed to on a porch swing.
Guess that's not going to happen.
I just love this house, and these rooms, and how the original floor has worn spots on it.
But we're going to be way out in the country at our new house, and I haven't even told Iris she can be outdoor kitty again. If I tell her that she'll get send away for a giant whetstone to sharpen everything. I'll come home and she'll be puttin' her fangs on that thing. She'll be doing her Edward from Twilight impression. Her claws will literally have points of light gleaming off them and she'll be all, "Proceed."
So I'll tell her later.
The dogs are going to be able to run for centuries, and there will be deer and bunnies and I will be like Snow White without the short men. I don't like apples, so I'm not worried about being Snow White in any way.
I always identified with Grumpy, obvs, but I really liked it when Dopey put that diamond up to his eyeball. That was hilarious.
Also, would it have been too much to ask to bring Snow White just a teensy diamond from work? just one? They couldn't pull that off?
I had a friend whose dad worked for one of the cereal companies, and he always got the prizes. Didn't even have to dig his hand in the box. Bitch got seven men working in a diamond mine while she cooks for their short asses all day and not even a diamond chip.
Oh, hell, it's time to rinse the roots, which is a shame because this post was full of useful. The roots will be dark, like my mood. Oh, and speaking of my mood, I appreciate that everyone is concerned, but I use my phone for my alarm clock, so please knock it off with the middle-of-the-night texts, okay? Thank you.
Grumpily,
Jooon White
